


Prom, And Other Disasters

by cadesama



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drug Use, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-05
Updated: 2009-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadesama/pseuds/cadesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them, emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1 – The Problem

Everyone talked about how good the Student Senate looked on transcripts. No one talked about how damn much of the class was dedicated to debating crepe paper decorations, and the merits thereof.

 _Streamers_ , Nathan wrote on his official Senate agenda, pen working with sharp, stabbing precision, _Dead!_

Emergency meetings arguing over the prom committee budget, held two fucking weeks in advance of the event itself, weren't exactly an ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon, in the esteemed opinion of the Monroe High Class President. Admittedly, for him, an ideal Saturday afternoon was one spent in a slow, leisurely sixty nine with his brother Peter, but that was neither here nor there.

Nor, thankfully, was it in his little brother's newspaper. Unlike how tête–à–têtes with prospective Senate appointees were and, if this afternoon's problem didn't resolve itself soon, bankrupting the Student Senate over a _dance_ would be.

To be fair, it was his own damned fault. He should have known better than to let one of Mohinder's friends take point on the decoration committee. Mohinder had been a staunch political ally as the senior class representative, and the junior class rep the previous year when Nathan was just the Class Vice President, but much as Nathan loved the guy, he had to admit Mohinder's taste in people was more than a little shitty.

Still, the designs Candice had presented to the Senate had been convincing. How were they supposed to know that plan was an illusion, a daydream just one puff of reality away from collapsing?

The bulk of the money was already spent, going to the DJ flown in from LA -- because, of course, New York was _too_ close, and didn't the seniors deserve something special? Going to the catering, because the evening was supposed to be an _event_. And going to renting out the grand ballroom of the Deveaux building, because everyone should feel like royalty at least once.

That cost, at least, had not been the blow out expected. The Deveauxs were good friends of the Petrellis and Simone was a graduating senior, so it had not been difficult for Nathan to negotiate a lower price in the interest of Mr. Deveaux securing the perfect night for his darling daughter.

Which still led to the current dilemma. Decorations comma paper.

"It's tacky," Tracy snapped, facing down a sharp glare from Meredith across the table. "You want to festoon a vaulted, neo-baroque ballroom with paper _rosettes_ and _honeycombs_? Please. It should be fabric and fresh flowers, or nothing at all."

Nathan groaned. It was like she wanted to ruin him.

"We don't have the money for that," he reminded her.

"Perhaps that is an idea to consider," Mohinder started. "No decorations at all. Wasn't the purpose of securing a beautiful location in the first place the fact that it _is_ beautiful? Why waste money dressing it up to look like something it isn't?"

As a collective, the Senate shifted in their seats, torn between the appeal of the idea and the nagging feeling that Mohinder was just trying to duck responsibility for his bad appointment.

"Sounds fine to me," Ando shrugged. "It is not like we have a new design."

Meredith and Heidi, proponents of the crepe paper proposal, grumbled their acquiescence. It was pretty obvious that the old theme would be horrific in paper, and there really wasn't anything else on the table.

It didn't feel like a victory to Nathan, though. It grated, this idea that the best course of action was to do nothing at all. He'd learned well all too recently that he did not have the freedom to rest on his laurels.

"I see your point, but this doesn't sit right with me," Nathan said, ignoring the impatient huffs from around the circular meeting table. "I know that none of you want to meet back here tomorrow, or deal with this in class on Monday. So what I'm proposing now is that we table this, and you all agree that if I can allocate more funds for an immediate solution, I can act unilaterally, without another committee meeting to effect the action."

"You want the power to issue executive orders?" Tracy balked. She raised a hand, gesturing the to heretofore ignored audience to the meeting sitting in the back: Ando's friend Hiro. "Despite what you may have told him, you are a _student_ , Nathan."

"I am. But this is a very narrow application, Tracy. I can't possibly see why you would object."

Nathan held Tracy's cool gaze for a long moment, before Eden broke the silence, "Why don't we call it a day, draft the proposal, Trace, making it as limited as possible, and e-mail it over?"

Tracy shrugged, the set of her shoulders still stiffly defiant, but Nathan could tell she had been persuaded. He let out a long, relieved breath.

"Good. Then I move to adjourn...."

***

As Senate Secretary, it was Heidi's job to type up the minutes of the meetings and summarize them for Peter's newspaper, Audrey in video journalism, and Hana over in new media.

These days, though, Nathan wasn't a big fan of making things too easy on Peter, so he asked Heidi to just forward the summary to him and let him pass it on at home.

"He was just doing his job, you know," she said, rolling her eyes. Any sympathy he could have expected from her was clearly canceled out by her still hard feelings over the break up. "Maybe you shouldn't have fucked Meredith at home if you didn't want him to break the story."

"That's not the point," Nathan snapped, before remembering himself. "Will you leave it to me, please? I want to take care of this myself."

He wanted to make Peter _crawl_ , to beg to be allowed to do his job again. He didn't get to have access anymore.

If Heidi understood that subtext, she ignored it, sighing, "Fine. I'll finish it tonight and send it over."

Nathan drove home, for once relishing the slow New York City traffic that allowed him to contemplate the best way to exact his revenge on Peter. Should he just wait for Peter to realize he was cut off, wait for Peter to get righteously angry when he stormed into Nathan's bedroom, demanding the due right of the school paper's Editor in Chief? Or should he tell Peter himself, set the terms of surrender and watch that beautiful rebelliousness crumble right in front of his face?

Foot in the front door, Nathan barely noticed how quiet the house was. The help was usually off on the weekends, but their presence was often as not replaced by Peter's friends or Company affiliates come to plead their case with Ma. He took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, hip bumping against a table in the hall as he turned a corner, nearly sending a crystal vase and fresh cut hellebore to the floor.

He paused in front of Peter's closed door, back straight, licking his lips in anticipation. He took a deep breath – and tasting the scent of the air, his heart immediately clenched.

The plan was no good. Not today.

Nathan knocked at the door as a courtesy, but eased it open before there was any response. Smoke did not roll out into the hall, Peter knew better than that at least, but the smell of cannabis intensified. Nathan closed the door behind him, striding quickly across his brother's room to open the window, before turning his gaze to the figure upside down on the bed.

Peter had stripped down his boxers, and the state of his trash bin gave a good indication of what he'd been up to all afternoon. So did the sarcastic salute he hailed Nathan with, lifting his half empty bottle of Jack in acknowledgment before wetting his lips with whiskey.

Nathan brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

"So, I take it you spent the afternoon getting high and jerking off? I thought you had a newspaper meeting."

Peter tilted his head back to offer Nathan a lazy grin.

"Where do you think I got the pot?"

Motherfucking Isaac, of course. Nathan really, really wished he could get that stoned idiot expelled. Peter always protested that Isaac was an integral part of the paper, the best cartoonist he had. The only one he had.

Some of Nathan's disapproval – well, probably all of it – must have shown on Nathan's face, because Peter's brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Whatever. You're just mad you didn't think of it first."

Nathan had thought of _plenty_. His plan had just been less solitary and more collaborative in nature. He sat heavily on the bed, toeing his sneakers off before letting himself fall backwards, head at Peter's feet.

"I don't suppose you have anything left for me?" he asked.

Peter pressed the bottle into Nathan's hand; so very much not what he was asking for. Nathan took it anyway, bringing it up to his lips for a long swallow. His other hand groped for Peter's, tugging him to sit. Peter shifted with bad grace, grumbling as he resettled right side up, face centimeters from Nathan's.

His eyes were red, pupils blown out, leaving only the sliver of greenish hazel irises. His hair was stringy with sweat, falling onto his forehead, breath hot and stale against Nathan's lips. Nathan reached out, thumb drifting across the sharp line of Peter's jaw. His skin felt slightly cool to the touch, and Nathan wondered just how long he'd been drinking.

"Jesus, Pete. What happened?"

Peter's eyes were hazily confused.

"Nothing. Had a good afternoon. How was yours?"

"I think Tracy is out to get me."

Peter nodded swiftly in agreement, saying, "Yeah, she hates you."

"What?" Nathan frowned. Why was he the last to know these things?

"Hates your guts. She never forgave you for cheating on Niki last year."

Peter curled an arm around Nathan, letting himself be pulled close, burrowing his head down into the crook of Nathan's neck, seeking warmth. Nathan stroked his hand through Peter's hair, trying to distract himself from becoming aroused by thinking through this problem.

His eyes studied the posters on Peter's ceiling – Fallout Boy, _really_? – before shaking his head, "That doesn't make sense. Niki never even liked me that much."

"She and DL make a good couple," Peter said, voice muffled. Yeah, such a good couple that they were the front runners for prom king and queen. Especially now that Nathan and Heidi were out of the question. Not that he was bitter.

Peter, apparently bored with cuddling, started to kiss and lick at Nathan's neck, making him groan. He shifted restlessly on the bed, feeling his cock hardening and knowing he'd get no relief. Not with Peter smashed off his ass and wrung out from stroking off all afternoon.

Or maybe he would. Things didn't always have to be mutual...

Satisfied with his work, Peter pulled back long enough to murmur, "C'mere."

He pressed his mouth up to Nathan's, open and wet, tasting like the whiskey Nathan knew he _hated_. Dad drank whiskey. Used to drink.

"I'm still mad at you, you know," Nathan said between kisses.

"Mmm. Why?"

"Your nasty trick with the paper," Nathan said, nipping hard at Peter's neck. "If the Academy hears about that..."

Peter cracked an amused eye open. "Should have gone with early admission, like me. Besides, they won't hear. If there's one thing the school is afraid of, it's Mom. If there's two, it's Mom and tarnishing the school's reputation. It's just gossip."

"It's gossip about _me_ ," Nathan growled. He _would_ have his revenge. Just not today.

Peter rolled onto Nathan, grinding down and smiling at Nathan's reaction. He reached for the bottle, taking a long swallow and then another mouthful. Before Nathan could protest, he leaned down again, bare chest heavy on Nathan's, heat seeping through his annoyingly buttoned shirt. Nathan gripped the back of Peter's head hard as Peter sealed his mouth over Nathan's to share the drink, Peter's tongue gentle to soothe the burn of the alcohol. A trickle escaped from the corner of Nathan's mouth.

Panting, Nathan felt the warm room start to spin around him. He shut his eyes, trying to keep control, only to have them snap open when Peter palmed his cock through his trousers.

"Stay with me," Peter whispered, gaze intent through the cloudiness.

Nathan wiped his face with two fingers, examining them as he joked, "Dad wouldn't approve. He said not to waste a drop."

He also drank much better whiskey than Jack Daniels, but that wasn't really the point.

If Nathan expected Peter to react to the mention of Dad – the anniversary was coming up, it had to be that – he was disappointed. Wordlessly, without the guile, without the consciously flirtatious look in his eyes he would usually offer, Peter ducked his head down, mouth enveloping Nathan's fingers to suck every hint of the alcohol from his pores.

His eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes dark, thick lines above his cheekbones as he sucked and swirled his tongue, and _fuck_ if that wasn't nearly enough right there.

Breath heaving in his chest, Nathan groaned, "How long?"

Peter pulled back, fingers popping from his mouth, his hand reached out unsteadily, pressing down on Nathan's chest as he tried to keep his balance. Even sitting upright, it seemed, took effort for him in this state.

Nathan kept that hand where it was, caressing Peter's cheek with his wet fingers as Peter asked in puzzlement, "How long for what?"

"How long until Ma gets back?"

"She's been here all day."

Nathan jerked suddenly, pushing Peter off him and scrambling off the bed to stand.

"What? Are you _trying_ to get caught?" _Again?_

Peter glared up from the awkward position he landed in, legs and arms a naked jumble.

"She and Noah have been in Dad's old study all day, working on Company business. They haven't been up here once. We're not going to get _caught_ , Nathan."

Nathan paced across the room, kicking the clutter of shoes and clothes and half-finished news-copy out of his way.

"What about Claire?" he snapped. "Is she here, too? God, what were you _thinking_?"

"What about Claire?" Peter mimicked, eyes glittering viciously. "Do you even listen to yourself? It's a _Saturday_. She's at her mom's. But the high and mighty Nathan Petrelli can't even deign to learn the comings and goings of his fucking family. What a shock."

"She is _not_ our family!"

"Step. Whatever, close enough."

Angry as Nathan was, he really hadn't had any idea if Claire was around until Peter confirmed she wasn't. His mind did quickly click into gear, though, because if Claire wasn't home that meant...

"What about Lyle, Pete? He's just a kid. You want him walking in on us?"

Peter was clearly done being angry. He shrugged, falling back onto the bed, hand groping again for the Jack where it had fallen on the bed, a slow stream of whiskey spilling onto his bed covers. He needed to change them anyway.

"So I teach him to roll a joint, so what? He'll probably learn on his own, anyway."

"If you think the _drugs_ are the problem here... God, Pete, maybe you _should_ get caught, go through therapy again. It clearly didn't make a dent the first time."

Peter lifted his head off the bed, a surprisingly ironic look on his face for someone so high.

"You always say the sweetest things when we fuck."

Nathan gritted his teeth together, acknowledging the hit. It was a bit hard to call Peter out on being fucked up when sex with Nathan sure as hell contributed a lot there.

"Try to be sober before dinner, Pete," Nathan said tersely, turning for the door.

"I love you, too!" Peter sneered.

***

Nathan heard a soft click behind him and the gentle creak of door hinges working. He ignored it, finishing up the last of his Calc homework. Normally he would have tried to finish it on Friday, just to clear out his whole schedule for the weekend, but Friday night was when he received the urgent text about the prom's budget problem, so the rest of the night had been spent corralling the Senate to set up the emergency meeting the next day.

Saturday, of course, had been the meeting and Peter, both leaving him in an unsatisfied, tightly wound coil. Unable to concentrate, he'd spent the rest of the evening in step-brotherly "bonding" with Lyle, playing football in the garden.

Today was another work day for Ma and Noah, the quiet kind that was occasionally punctuated by calm, frightening threats. Which made it a very good day to spend outside or upstairs, at least until they finished their business. Nathan was moderately sure that Lyle was off at one of his many, many sporting activities. It was a good bet, anyway.

The last time Nathan looked out the window, Peter had been lying in a sunny spot on the grass, phone held close to his face while he laughed, smile bright enough that Nathan could feel it from his room. He'd probably been talking to Isaac. Or Simone. Whichever one he claimed to be dating this week.

Nathan's thoughts had turned again to expulsion and why, while it was an extremely bad plan to enact with Simone in particular, it was very enjoyable to fantasize about. It took a long time for Nathan to force himself away from the window, and even longer to force himself back to work.

Soft footsteps sank into the plush carpeting, barely making a sound.

"Finishing your homework on a Sunday _afternoon_?" Peter asked, peering over Nathan's shoulder, hand warm enough against Nathan's neck to make him shiver. "I don't know what to say, Nathan. You're losing your touch. Soon you're going to be as lazy as _me_."

Nathan punched a few keys on his graphing calculator, finding the area underneath the curve. Writing down the last few numbers, he pointedly laid down his pencil and closed his book.

"Not likely, Pete." He shifted in his seat, turning to look up at his brother. He looked better today, back to normal. The wildness was gone from his eyes, replaced by his usual gentle uncertainty. "What's up?"

Peter licked his lips, looking down for a moment before looking back up from under his bangs.

"I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean what I said yesterday. I'm sorry."

"Ah," Nathan said. "You're only sorry for _yesterday_."

This was the moment where Nathan hoped Peter would glare at him, anger suddenly crackling in his eyes. He'd growl back, _"Is there something I should be sorry for?"_ And then Nathan would wave the newspaper article in his brother's face – he'd cut it out and kept it on he his desk, ready, just in case – before telling him that he was totally _cut off_ from now on. He'd have to scrabble for access just like a real reporter, groveling for the Senate minutes and many, many more pieces of information in the future that Nathan planned to hold over his head.

Instead, Peter frowned. "You know, I'm trying to be nice here."

"Yeah," Nathan sighed. Not the right time for games, then. "You always do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nathan stood and clapped an arm around Peter's shoulder, pulling him close in a half hug and pressing a kiss to Peter's temple. Peter looked faintly surprised, but pleased, when Nathan released him. He stayed near, almost within the circle of Nathan's arms.

"Nothing, Pete. So, do you want to talk about whatever it is that had you so wound up yesterday?" Nathan asked. Never say he didn't have a sense of courtesy. He knew well enough to pretend he didn't know _exactly_ what the problem was.

Thank God Peter was _Peter_ , and therefore too open to really hedge or be coy about this.

"I don't know how much talking will help," Peter admitted. "I just feel... It's been three fucking years, Nathan! Dad's dead, he's never going to hurt us again. Why can't I get over it?"

"Because it takes more than just time."

Frustrated tears welled in Peter's eyes. He shrugged stiffly, looking away, voice tight when he continued, "But I _have_ done more. I just... I just want to be better."

Nathan felt his breath solidify in his chest, his muscles tense across his back as he restrained the ache of hearing the pain in his brother's voice. He pulled Peter close again, hugging hard for his own comfort as much as Peter's.

Peter's arms stayed limp at his side, at first, as he let himself be handled and positioned like a doll. Eventually his arms encircled Nathan's back, holding his brother just as tightly as Nathan held him. He rested his forehead against Nathan's shoulder, wet eyes dampening Nathan's t-shirt.

"I know," Nathan said.

The therapists, girlfriends, boyfriends, Ma... they never knew how to take care of Peter. Not like Nathan did. Nathan was the only one who really understood what Peter had gone through, and he was most certainly the only person who had come through to the other side a stronger person himself.

They stayed in that position, Peter warm and tightly clutched to Nathan's chest for a long moment, before Peter started to relax, before his uncomfortably hitched breathing smoothed to a pattern much less painful to listen to.

Perhaps hearing the train of Nathan's thoughts, Peter slipped out of Nathan's grasp enough to tilt his face up, wide hazel eyes searching Nathan's expression as he asked, "What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "What do you think I mean? How are you coping with the whole anniversary thing?"

"I'm fine," Nathan said, kissing Peter again, this time lightly on the forehead. "Don't worry about me."

" _Nathan_..."

Nathan guided them both to sit on his bed, breaking them apart slightly, although his arm was braced on the bed behind Peter's back. He aimed for a casual pose, ignoring Peter's concern, eyes searching the bookshelf opposite for a new topic. He didn't really think "Indo-European Conquests in the Aegean And the Near East" would interest Peter.

"Hey. Um, you don't really think that I don't care about them, right? About Claire, and Lyle, and Bennet?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at the last. Well, what the hell else was he supposed to call the man? Dad was already taken.

"That's the worst segue I've ever heard in my life," Peter said dryly.

However, he did let it go, his penitence over his bad behavior the day before overwhelming his desire for reciprocal sharing _for once_.

"I do care, you know," Nathan insisted, not sure why he suddenly wanted Peter to believe him.

"Oh, I know," Peter said hurriedly. "It's just that you... well, you never really seem interested in their lives. Do you even know what classes Claire is taking?"

"Logical fallacy. I doubt she's taking anything that interests her." But, okay, Nathan could sort of see Peter's point. "Didn't she try out for... cheerleading?"

"Drill team," Peter corrected, soft, amused smile on his face. His bangs fell forward, and Nathan gently tucked them behind his ear.

"Ah. Right. The _slutty_ cheerleaders."

Peter's smile vanished, replaced with an annoyed, very politically correct expression. He smacked Nathan not at all softly on the chest.

"Don't call them that."

"Sorry, Pete, I forgot that you don't like sharing your title. You put in the real slut hours..."

Pete hit him again, more gently this time, but it was enough to spur Nathan to retaliate. Pulling his arm out from behind Peter, where his brother had been leaning on it, he pushed Peter down and moved on top of him for a pin. Peter struggled, gasping out laughter as he tried to topple his brother off of him.

"Peter?" Claire called from the doorway, voice affectionate and indulgent.

The boys froze on the bed and then relaxed, remembering that what they were doing actually _was_ innocent for once. They disentangled themselves, red faced and still panting.

"Was there something you wanted, Claire?" Nathan asked politely, eyes squarely on her, ignoring Peter in his periphery. Now was _not_ the time to think about how good Peter looked flushed.

Claire looked vaguely surprised at the question, like she hadn't expected to find him in his own room. Nathan fought back a surge of annoyance. He hadn't lied to Peter. He cared about Claire. He even liked her. He just didn't think she liked _him_ very much.

"Uh, dinner. Are you coming, Peter?"

He hardly had a choice, after his showing the day before. Peter had slept through dinner, and while Sunday dinner was usually a Bennet only affair – Petrellis opting to stay away so Bennet could spend time with his both kids at the same time, before Lyle went back to his mother's – Ma had made it very clear he had some atoning to do.

"Yeah. I just need to clean up. I'll be down in a bit," Peter said, holding out his hands, wiggling his fingers.

Claire flashed him a bright smile, almost skipping from the room; Nathan rolled his eyes.

"Well, I think I know _one_ thing she's interested in," he muttered, not even trying to hide the jealousy in his voice.

Peter ignored him, as he always did, standing to leave. Long ago, Peter had told him that he wasn't going to let Claire come between them. Not at all a comforting sentiment, in Nathan's opinion, since that meant there _was_ something between Peter and Claire.

"You coming down?"

"She's all yours, tonight, Pete. Flirt all you want. I'll catch the next show."

Peter huffed quietly and glared at him, but didn't deny the charge.

Nathan glowered silently at the closed door long after Peter left.

***

It was a long time before Nathan snuck down to the kitchen, hunger overwhelming his good sense about avoiding his family. Usually he would go out on a date, solving the awkward problem of how to eat without attending a Bennet family dinner.

Since the break up with Heidi, however, he didn't exactly have any prospects lined up.

He really needed to do something about that, especially with prom so close. Nathan considered his options as he raided the kitchen, the cook having gone home long before. There was always Heidi. He could try to win her back. But he wasn't big on groveling, and he was fairly sure that's what she wanted. A plausible story for how he'd managed to smell like sex _before_ a date with her would be necessary too – far trickier, since he'd have to fabricate a woman for that.

He didn't think "Well, I was blowing my brother," would exactly charm her back into his arms.

 _Note to self_ , Nathan thought. _Sex with Peter_ after _dates. Not before._

Nathan's eye hit upon some take out containers, and he brought one up to his nose for a quick sniff. Chicken vindaloo, still good if getting up there in vintage. Now all he needed was... ah, the garlic naan. Grinning to himself in triumph, Nathan hip checked the fridge door closed, hands full.

There weren't a lot of other girls of Nathan's acquaintance that a) he hadn't slept with or b) didn't hate his guts. The former group led back to the entire "groveling" problem. The latter had a more self-evident problem, unless they were into hate sex.

Nathan snorted to himself. He couldn't quite imagine Tracy cornering him in a closet for furious, wild sex.

He paused, looking into space. _Actually_... Nathan could totally imagine that, and it was pretty awesome. He filed the thought away for later consideration. He turned to grab a plate from the cabinet, and damn near dropped the containers in surprise.

His mother, coiffed, wearing a sharp suit and a sharper expression stood waiting on the other side of the room.

"Nathan, if you have a moment?" his mother asked pleasantly, indifferent to his hunger.

"Uh, yeah, sure, Ma."

He followed her out of the room, sparing only one longing glance for his dinner before straightening up. His mother didn't do social calls and most certainly didn't do heart to hearts with him. This was business, of some form, so Nathan had to be prepared for it.

Nonetheless, it was disturbing to be led into Dad's old study. Nathan's eyes widened as he took in the guest waiting in the stiff, dark leather chair in front of the desk.

"Daniel and I were just talking about you, Nathan," his mother said, taking him by the arm to draw him further into the room.

Mr. Linderman turned with a half smile, glass of whiskey – Dad's whiskey – raised in greeting. Ma went to sit behind the desk, hands steepled as she watched the two of them. As she left Nathan to fend for himself.

Nathan managed a resentful glare for her before he greeted their guest.

"Ah, just the man I was waiting for," he said, voice cheerful. "And how are politics treating you, young Nathan?"

"Not bad." Nathan returned uneasily, wishing there were somewhere for him to sit. Then again, maybe not. He didn't like the idea of sitting down to discuss _family business_ with Linderman. Yet another shade of his father's sins.

"You may be wondering why I asked to see you, Nathan. As it turns out, I believe that I may be able to offer a solution to a problem you are facing. Your school is hosting a dance soon, I hear. Prom?"

Nathan shook his head slowly, trying to clear the cotton from his ears. He could have sworn he just heard motherfucking _Linderman_ talking about _prom_. And oh God, why did he have to think that particular word? He really hoped Ma and Linderman weren't having sex. That would be too disturbing.

Linderman frowned at the apparent denial.

"Nathan," Ma started commandingly, head tilted toward Linderman as she urged him to focus. Nathan took a deep breath, pressing his sweaty palms against his jeans. "I was telling Daniel about your administration's slight budget problem."

"I thought I could perhaps be of some assistance."

 _Oh, fuck no_. He was not going to accept money from Linderman. They didn't need prom decorations that badly.

But what was the point of the moral high ground? No one would know. And it wasn't like the whole school wasn't a big money laundering operation and front for the Company to _begin_ with.

Fighting images of walking into the Senate, money secured, hailed as a hero by everyone, he asked his mother, "How do you know about that?"

"Noah told me."

"Of course," he replied, smile tight and angry. He'd really liked Bennet a lot more when he was in wetworks, instead of being Ma's personal spy on him and Peter. Bennet probably liked wetworks more too. A hitman's problems were a lot more easily solved than a Vice Principal's, that was for sure.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Linderman," he said, anger barely leashed in his voice. "But I'm not ready to become my father _just yet_. I hope you understand."

Linderman laughed loudly, setting his empty glass down and clapping his hands down onto his legs before he stood.

"My dear boy, don't you worry. I understand _perfectly_." He reached into a pocket, extracting a business card that he forced into Nathan's stiff hand. He leaned close, whispering into Nathan's ear, "But keep me in mind, for the future."

Linderman squeezed his arm in a fatherly gesture. Nathan shivered.

"I do like the boy, Angie," Linderman said over his shoulder, doffing an imaginary hat as he left. "He's got spirit."

"That's a kind way of looking at it, Daniel," Ma said, walking out from behind the desk to show Linderman out. They continued talking about Nathan, about his future with the Company, voices pitched to normal volume but nonetheless fading as they got further from the study.

Ma returned alone, silent as she brushed past Nathan to sit again.

"That was poorly played, Nathan," she said, picking up a pen as she sorted through documents, adding an angry signature to a few.

"What the hell do you want, Ma? I'm not going to be Dad!"

"I want you to consider your future. How far do you really think you'll get without the Company? You think you'll get to the White House? Dear, you didn't make it onto the Student Senate without _his_ money."

Stung, Nathan replied, "That's _not_ true. I did that all on my own."

His mother looked at him pityingly. "I never should have let you believe that. It has clearly confused your priorities."

"My priorities? My priority, _Ma_ , is trying to save this family from itself! Trying to clear our name! How the hell am I supposed to do that if I start taking money from the mob in high school?"

"This family is the mob, Nathan. And you need to be realistic about what that means," Ma said, waving her fingers at him, dismissing him from her presence. She turned back to her ever so _pressing_ papers and Nathan walked from the room, anger burning slowly.

***

It was 6:45 am and Nathan was already running late as he threaded his Honor Society pin into the knot of his uniform tie. He cursed softly when he heard a knock at his door, surprise making him slip. He'd stabbed himself with the straight pin.

Sucking on the pad of his index finger, he hoped he wasn't in trouble for his late night the day before. Usually Ma and Bennet didn't care much about his curfew, but there had been a strange tension in the house when he came home, silent and asleep though everyone else was.

Behind the door, it was Bennet himself. Nathan opened the door, and barely sparing the man a glance, went back to surveying his appearance in the mirror.

"There's something I need to discuss with you, Nathan," Bennet said, closing the door discreetly behind himself.

Nathan restrained himself from making a snide comment about Bennet's misplaced paternalism. It was a bit late in the game for anyone to play father to him, much though Peter apparently relished having an alternative to Dad around.

But he'd rather get this finished sooner than later, take his punishment if that was what he was due and plead out his case with Ma later. If she cared enough to bother listening, anyway.

"Shoot."

"Your mother informed me of something very interesting that occurred last night, regarding your brother and Claire."

Nathan turned slightly, regarding Bennet with a frown. "Interesting how?"

"It seems my daughter has something of a crush on Peter." _Yeah, tell me something I don't know._ "She asked him out last night and he was rather...let's say _put off_ by the whole thing."

Huh. That was actually surprising. Nathan knew his brother didn't actually have much in the regard of sexual mores and that Peter's relationship with Claire was exactly the kind of playfully flirtatious affair his brother usually pursued. He never would have guessed that Peter would balk at a serious overture from Claire, step-sister or not.

He couldn't help the surge of selfish triumph he felt. Nathan had always assumed he would eventually lose to Claire – to the possibility of a romance in the light of day with someone as close as family, someone who actually understood him, unlike all the rest of his high school flings. The idea of Peter himself extinguishing that possibility was very satisfying, if confusing.

"And what does that have to do with me?" Nathan asked slowly. He didn't want to tip his hand. Bennet didn't know about his relationship with Peter, Ma didn't know that it was still on-going, and he really didn't feel like getting Dr. Laura'd right now.

"You care about your brother. I care about Claire. I can't _be there_ for her all the time, though. I was hoping you would take it upon yourself to keep an eye out for her when I can't. Think of it as your step brotherly duty."

"Keep an eye out... and keep her and Peter apart?" Not that he had anything against that idea, really.

The early morning light glinted off Bennet's glasses, turning them into mirrors.

"I just don't want to see my little girl get hurt again," he said cryptically.

"And I don't like to see my brother hurt," Nathan replied, not quite sure if he meant it as a threat or what he could possibly threaten Bennet with. Telling Ma about this little conference would almost surely result in nastier consequences for Nathan than for Bennet – _he_ knew he wasn't supposed have that close of contact with Peter, but Bennet did not.

He didn't seriously think Angela Petrelli would have her first born killed, but he also didn't want to take the risk. She'd always liked Peter better anyway.

"Then we're agreed?"

Bennet was not honestly threatening Peter, Nathan knew that much. He was making an offer. He would turn a blind eye at school and a home to Nathan's actions, as long as they could be construed as protecting Peter or Claire. He wondered briefly why Bennet was not adding blackmail into the mix, talking of using Peter's exposé about his affairs from the school record against him, but decided that this was the smarter move. It kept them allies.

And Bennet was clearly all too aware that he may want to keep that in reserve.

Carte blanche to act how he wanted, _particularly_ with regard to Peter, was all too tempting.

"We're agreed."

Bennet nodded once and turned to leave. From the doorway, he added, "Then I'll leave you to your... primping. You running late, you know."

Nathan glared into the mirror, checking his appearance one last time. Bennet was already gone, but he couldn't refrain from grumbling, "I don't primp."

Downstairs, for once Claire and Peter were ready and waiting. Well, if you counted furiously trying to finish Calc homework – _come on, Pete, you had_ all _weekend_ – and sleepily munching on toast as ready. It was a lot better than usual, however, and not altogether hard to break up so Nathan could hustle them out to the car.

The commute to school out in Hartsdale was generally very boring, with the added bonus that traffic jams could result in insane, ridiculous tardiness if they didn't hit exactly the right window in New York City traffic. It would probably be easier if any of them took a zero hour class, since traffic would be even lighter earlier, but Nathan was fairly sure that the amount of coffee needed to keep either Claire or Peter awake at that hour would be fatal.

Which was half the reason that, late or not, they didn't skip their regularly scheduled stop at for coffee.

Claire huddled to one side of the backseat in Nathan's town car, face deep into her latte, while Peter balanced his book on his knees, squinting in annoyance at his integrals. Neither touched the entire trip.

Bennet's task would be easier than Nathan thought.

Relaxing into the driver's seat as they turned onto I-87, Nathan watched them in the rear view mirror. There was an idea he wanted to run past them.

"Hey, Pete, you almost done?"

"Nope," Peter said with a grimace, shoving his paper into his book and closing it. "What's up?"

"I was thinking of asking Tracy to the prom."

Peter's eyes flicked to the side, sneaking a quick look at Claire. Unaware of the attention, she merely frowned.

"Why would you do that?" she asked at the same time Peter asked more derisively, "And what makes you think she'd say _yes_?"

"I have a plan," Nathan assured Peter.

Claire pushed her knees hard into the back of Nathan's seat, prodding him to answer her question as well.

"Why?" she repeated.

"She's hot," Nathan said simply. "What's it to you?"

Claire huffed out an angry breath, ready to begin an unexpected tirade before Peter gave her a quick, quelling look. Whatever her problem was, he'd probably offered to solve it himself. _Yeah, right, Pete. Try that white knight routine somewhere else._

"I don't know," she conceded eventually. "I just don't like her."

They passed the rest of the commute in silence, Nathan pulling them into the Class President parking space he'd managed to allocate for himself early on, before Tracy started opposing him in earnest. They walked together to the iron wrought gate in the brick wall circling the school, before Peter spotted Isaac and Simone walking arm in arm and jogged off to join them.

Claire, spotting Zach, waved and started to walk over to him before Nathan took her by the arm, holding her up. Face scrunched in annoyance, she asked, " _What?_ "

He jerked his head toward Peter's retreating form.

"Did he say who he's going to prom with?"

Guarded, she replied, "He's going with Isaac and Simone, as friends. For the newspaper."

"Ah."

Well, Nathan would just have to put an end to that. Suddenly his plan for convincing Tracy acquired another, very appealing dimension.

***

He didn't actually see her until fourth period. First, he had Calc where he stoically ignored Peter's pleading glances to let him copy the end of the assignment while Mr. Neuenberg called roll. Then Euro with Mr. Raines, eyes continually drawn to the door leading to Peter's darkroom, stomach tightening while he considered just how Peter earned that privilege. AP Bio with Mohinder's father.

Fourth hour was actually Nathan's one blow off class, Public Speaking. He already had his communications credit in Spanish, but he didn't feel up to burdening himself either with a useless elective or another AP, so he opted for an easy A where he could coast if he chose, or refine his rhetoric to razor sharpness.

For the latter goal, luckily enough, Tracy had apparently followed a similar line of reasoning. They ended up quietly measuring their speeches against one another more often than not, to the point where the class was now little more than a forum for their verbal sparring.

Nathan slid into the desk next to where Tracy sat, long hair shading her face as she wrote furiously, far from his customary seat on the other side of the room. He watched her work for a long moment, waiting for her to look up. She was a very formidable opponent, and he couldn't deny how attractive that was to him.

Her arm darted out, pushing a piece of paper under his nose.

"Sign this."

Nathan frowned, taking it and turning it right side up to read.

"What is it?"

Tracy stopped writing to sigh, glaring up at him. "It's your executive privilege. I had Mr. Bishop sign off on it earlier. It's just up to you to sign and date it so we can file it. Parliamentary procedure."

"Right," Nathan said, reading over the memo.

"It's the same as the one I sent you yesterday," Tracy said, bored by his paranoia. Yet that wasn't enough to convince him. He slanted her a look telling her that he knew her _too well_ to simply believe that.

It was, however, the same. Nathan signed it with a flourish. Tracy held out an indifferent hand, eyes already back on her other notes. Nathan handed over the paper, but held tight enough to regain her attention as she looked up in annoyance.

"Was there something else?" she asked.

Nathan relaxed against the metal bar attaching the desk to the chair, eyes flicking briefly to the front of the class to confirm that he still had time. The clock above the podium ticked forward, giving only a few more minutes for passing.

"You want to be President," Nathan stated.

"I _will_ be President, actually. My campaign is going well."

"But it could be going better," Nathan corrected. "Right now, the school doesn't even care. The only thing they are paying attention to is prom, and the only people they are looking to elect are prom king and queen."

Tracy shrugged. "There's still plenty of time."

"Not for you, there isn't."

Eyes narrowed, Tracy's voice dropped to a whisper, "What did you do?"

Nathan grinned viciously.

"Nothing. I don't have to. After voting for sweet, honest Niki, who in their right mind would vote for an ambitious shark like you, Tracy? No one."

It was like the choice between Peter and Nathan, one Nathan was still glad the school hadn't voted on. People had an unfortunate tendency to want to protect Peter, frequently from Nathan himself.

A laugh bubbled up from beneath her sneer. "So what are you proposing, _sabotage_? She's my sister, you idiot."

Nathan just shook his head, fingers twirling a pencil. His eyes went to the front of the room again, and he pretended to prepare for class. As an aside, he said, "There is another way, though."

There was a long, quiet moment where the only thing Nathan could hear was Matt chuckling with Hiro over a comic book. Finally, Tracy surrendered to her curiosity, "And what's that, Petrelli?"

Casually, Nathan turned once more. He reached out, brushing back loose strands of blond hair from her annoyed expression.

"Go to the prom with me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them, emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU

Part 2 - The Plan

Nathan and Tracy spent lunch laying out their plan in the Special Education resource room, their hushed conversation drawing curious and confused looks from Dr. Suresh just the same as from Daphne and Ando. Sitting at a table diagonal to Nathan and Tracy, West pulled out his phone, not very covertly taking a photo, most likely to send on to Peter.

Nathan never liked that guy, anyway.

The plan was this: step one, charm offensive. They had to lay the ground work of reminding the students that Niki wasn't the only Sanders sister in the school, and not the only _nice_ Sanders sister either. Baked goods figured into this portion of the plan fairly strongly.

Step two was finding a way to subtly remind the school just who the Petrellis were. Nathan didn't really think anyone had _forgotten_ , per se, but he didn't want to take it for granted that he was royalty. It needed to come from the student body first. Tracy was thinking a grass roots, viral campaign was the best choice here. They'd have to charm a couple of underclassmen into repeating the meme that Petrellis, by their nature, deserved to be crowned – that Nathan's date did as well would naturally follow.

"Step three," Nathan explained, "is the easy one. We need an editorial, preferably from Simone or Isaac instead of Peter, endorsing you for President."

Tracy added that step to her outline, highlighting it yellow and adding a bullet point. She frowned down at it.

"Isn't that skipping ahead?"

Nathan shook his head, smiling inwardly. Already they were working together, like a real team.

"Tracy, you don't want the paper to pick you for prom queen. If anyone thinks you're _actually_ after Niki's crown, it'll make you look petty, and then you'll lose both elections. If it looks like this is part of your Presidential campaign, students will make you queen without ever realizing that was part of your agenda."

Tracy's expression had flickered at the word "petty", but now a wicked smile was sliding across her lips.

"You're good," she said, voice low and promising.

Nathan swallowed, trying not to show just how much of a reaction that provoked. Eyes intense on hers, he offered a tight smile as he leaned forward.

"You're not bad yourself," he murmured, brushing a kiss across her mouth.

The kiss would have to remain brief, because Nathan found himself jerked away from Tracy suddenly, pulled from his seat and hauled around to face his brother.

His very angry brother.

"What the hell, Pete?" Nathan snapped, pushing him away and straightening his uniform jacket.

Peter rolled his eyes disdainfully, showing just what he thought of Nathan's show of innocence.

"You know," he started with conversational sarcasm, "as far as revenge goes, this is pretty lame. The Senate minutes? You think anyone in school cares about the Senate?"

 _You couldn't wait to do this at home?_ Nathan thought, annoyed on many levels.

"You clearly do."

Anger thrummed up Peter's body, and his fist clenched. Nathan braced for the swing, eyes flicking over to where Mr. Suresh was rising from his desk, to West snapping yet more photos. Peter's eyes followed, and he restrained himself, taking a few deep breaths.

Eventually, Peter looked up through his hair and smirked. "I care because you just gave me a new front page story: 'Petrelli Administration Secrecy Hides New Executive Privilege.' And _they_ care because it's the only prom they'll ever have. No one wants to hear that you suddenly have all the power you need to screw it up for them."

Nathan startled. "Who told you about that?"

The whole _point_ of keeping Peter from getting the minutes was that he wasn't supposed to know what happened in that meeting.

Peter shook his head, chuckling, and turned to leave. At the door, always fond of the theatrical, he cast a look back over his shoulder, eyes big and honest, tone self-righteous as he said, "Why Nathan, I'd never betray my source."

And the problem was, it could have been anyone in the Senate. Most of them liked Peter a damn sight more than Nathan. He shifted his gaze from the door Peter was disappearing through, to the table where Daphne and Ando sat. Ando offered a wide, strained "Please don't blame me" smile and Daphne just waved cheerily, oblivious to the stakes.

Probably not Ando. He wasn't the betraying type. But that still left Heidi, Mohinder, Meredith...

And Tracy.

Nathan glared down at her. Tracy, who had drawn a nail file from her bag, shrugged lightly, continuing her manicure as she admitted, "Hey, we weren't allies until about an hour ago."

"You realize," he said tightly, "you just made step three much harder than it needs to be."

Eyes on the nearly filed nails of her right hand, she reached out with her left to tug him down to sit once more. Blowing nail dust from her hand, she said indifferently, "We'll think of something."

Disgruntled, Nathan leaned his arms onto the table, glaring at West until the boy turned away.

"And by 'something' you mean blackmail?" he asked. That sounded good right now.

"Obviously," she said dismissively. Nathan's mind was still spinning with possibilities, however. "No, the real problem is how we pull off number two. Groundswells of support aren't exactly predictable. Do you know how many times corporations have tried to go viral and made themselves into laughing stocks? We need to plan carefully."

Nathan stared into the distance, barely listening to what Tracy was saying. His bargain with Noah Bennet swirled in his mind, twisting together with his jealousy over Peter's prom plans. A plan – a complicated, convoluted plan that Bennet wouldn't be entirely happy with – began to form.

But Nathan didn't really care about making Bennet happy. And if this worked, he might just kill three or four birds with one stone.

"Tracy," he interrupted, "I know we need to do. But first, I need you to tell me what your problem with Claire Bennet is."

***

After the last bell, Nathan asked all of the freshmen he knew by name – all two of them – until a bystander took pity on him and told him where Claire's locker was. He'd tried texting Peter earlier, but he was still in a snit, sending back, "LOL USE UR EXEC PRIV."

Brat.

Claire and Zach stood by her open locker in the east wing of the school, one of the older, more institutional parts of the building. The cool, white stone arches and pale aqua stripe down the wall made this corridor feel more like an asylum or a prison than a school. Everyone always joked that was why the Psychology class always did experiments here, but there was more truth to the old joke than most students knew.

The Company once put this building to very different purposes.

Spotting Nathan, Claire sighed and closed her locker door.

"I'm ready, okay?" She turned to Zach, saying, "I'll talk to you later online."

"No, Claire, we're not leaving yet. I just wanted to talk to you."

Claire and Zach shared a look, before she said slowly, "You wanted to talk?"

Nathan glowered. "Yes. Talk. Is that somehow confusing?"

"No, no!" Claire said, tone indulgent. "It's just... new."

There was a reason Nathan left whole categories of life to Peter to deal with, particularly "nice" and "talking to Claire."

"Yeah, well, I have an offer for you. And for Zach," he added, when he saw the boy trying to inch away. "How would you like to go to prom?"

" _Together_?" Zach yelped, eyes wide. Claire laughed, punching him in the shoulder.

"No, not together, you dork." She turned back to Nathan, sudden concern in her green eyes. "Right?"

Nathan shook his head, muttering under his breath about _teenagers_ , irony not lost on him. "No, not together. Just you, Claire. And before you joke about Tracy turning me down, no, not with me. With Peter."

"Uh, Nathan, I know you're President and everything, but I don't think you have that kind of authority."

"And didn't you, like, have a huge fight with him?" Zach interjected. "It's all over school. He just walked into the Specials room and sucker punched you."

Goddamn West. If he was going to take pictures, couldn't he at least send them out with the real story?

Nathan gestured to his unblemished face. "Do I look like I was sucker punched?"

Zach leaned in close to scrutinize Nathan before Claire grabbed him, pulling him back. She fixed Nathan with a considering look. She was Bennet enough to know he wouldn't offer something he couldn't deliver; Petrelli enough to know there would be a price.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Make Tracy popular," Nathan directed a look down at Zach, ignoring Claire's sputtering indignance. "And I need you to make a campaign video."

"She kept me off the drill team!" Claire objected.

"For prom queen?" Zach asked.

Nathan shook his head. "No, for President. And make sure to keep filming between takes. Try to be as funny as possible. We're going to need the outtakes."

" _Nathan_! How the hell am I supposed to make that bitch popular?"

"Think of something. Or no prom and no Peter," Nathan said, "Now, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," she huffed out sullenly.

They spent the walk out to the car in silence, Nathan deeply satisfied with the deal he'd struck (as long as Bennet didn't find out about it and kill him, anyway) and Claire rather less so. It was only when Nathan opened the door that Claire spoke up again.

"You know, you didn't offer Zach anything."

Nathan grinned into the rear view mirror; Peter was running out into the parking lot, looking like he thought Nathan really would leave without him.

"I know."

***

The sounds coming from the darkroom were muffled, but definite. Tracy raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to speak, but Nathan hushed her to stay quiet as they inched toward the locked room at the back of Mr. Raines's classroom. Nathan ran his thumb over the teeth of the key copy Peter had given him. This really wasn't what his brother had intended with that gesture.

"You Petrellis certainly have interesting extra-curriculars," Tracy whispered.

Nathan smiled to himself. "You have no idea."

Simone's moans intensified, long, breathy sounds punctuated by murmuring that he _knew_ was Peter. A clatter, the kind that came from a couple passionately knocking over delicate instruments, sounded. It was difficult not to imagine the position they were in, not to think about how a woman felt around him, how _Peter_ felt against him.

Her cries crested with a scream, leaving both Nathan and Tracy staring at the door, pretending they couldn't hear how loudly the other was breathing. Nathan shifted awkwardly, counting down slowly to himself.

The room felt too hot.

The point was to catch them _in flagrante_ , but Nathan suddenly wasn't sure how much he could stand to see. He waited, willing his heart to slow. It wouldn't exactly help his credibility to burst in on Peter and Simone with a fucking hard-on.

"Do you think they're," Tracy licked her lips. She looked flushed. "Do you think they're done?"

There hadn't been any sound from Peter, and he didn't exactly tend to be _quiet_.

"I think so," Nathan lied. "Get the camera ready."

Tracy fumbled slightly with the camera, bringing it up to check the settings. She nodded tersely to Nathan, and he edged forward, sliding the key silently into the lock. He turned it, turning the tumbler over with a click that seemed all too loud, and then flinging the door open. At his side, the camera flashed multiple times, compensating for the red light and shadows of the darkroom.

They barely seemed to notice.

Simone's panties hung from the pointed toe of one of her Jimmy Choos, dipping dangerously close to the floor, black lace grazing white tile. She was perched on the darkroom counter, jars and developing bins pushed haphazardly to the wall, metal measuring spoons for the chemicals scattered across the floor at her feet. Her arms were splayed wide, hands tense as she braced against Peter; her fingernails leaving small half-circles in the Formica.

Her red mouth was open wide under Peter's in a kiss as he pressed in, bending her back, fingers knotted in her hair. Her uniform skirt was hiked high, one leg wrapped around Peter's clothed waist. Her eyelids fluttered as she broke the kiss, gasping. Peter groaned low in his throat, moving to kiss down her throat, white of his teeth flashing.

There was a very obvious sheen of wetness on his mouth and face that conjured up images of Peter on his knees, head between her thighs.

Nathan's trousers suddenly felt awkwardly tight.

He cleared his throat, once, trying to banish that mental picture, and again hoping that would be enough to break them apart. He didn't want to resort to shouting, "Hey, pay attention while we blackmail you!"

Luckily, Tracy saved him from that.

"Well, don't you make a pretty picture," she said, twirling the slim digital camera around her finger on its rope.

The couple froze, tension stiffening their posture.

" _Fuck_ ," Peter breathed into Simone's hair, right before she pushed him away, mortified blush coloring her face, hands smoothing her skirt down again.

"Yes, that does seem to be the problem," Tracy replied.

Peter glared at her. Nathan wished he'd wipe his mouth. Instead, Peter caught his eye, gaze flicking down to where Nathan's erection tented his pants before coming back up, expression a dangerous, aroused dare for Nathan to keep this up.

Nathan felt his temper flare. Peter was _flirting_ with him in front of Tracy. In front of his own girlfriend. _Shameless_.

"What is this about?" Simone asked angrily, voice a lot steadier than Nathan would have given her credit for.

"The prom," Tracy said.

"More specifically," Nathan continued, breathing barely controlled, eyes still locked with Peter's, "The prom court. And how you two are going to get us there."

Peter tilted his head, eyes dark as he examined his brother. He reached out his hand ever so slightly, running his fingers over the small divots Simone had left, satisfied smile curving his lips.

Nathan lost his train of thought, staring at Peter's long fingers, that evidence of his infidelity.

"How?" Simone asked.

"Just a simple editorial. Something about what a wonderful President I'd make, how I'm softer around the edges than you'd think. The surprising support I have for prom queen from the underclassmen..."

"Oh," Simone said cuttingly. "So you want us to make shit up?"

Tracy shrugged lightly next to Nathan, and he heard a click as she opened the camera. Briefly, he shifted his gaze over to see her toying with the camera memory card.

"Unless you two want Isaac seeing this... yes. Exactly."

"Isaac knows," Peter interjected. "He won't care. You don't have anything to bargain with, Nathan."

But Simone shifted uncertainly next to him.

"Knowing and seeing are two different things," Nathan said; Peter smirked at the double meaning, but conceded the point with a quick duck of his head.

"So, how does the Friday edition sound?" Tracy offered, cheerful.

Simone stooped down to the floor, retrieving her underwear, and walked out of the darkroom, a hard, deliberate knock into Tracy's shoulder her only response as she brushed past. Peter barely seemed to notice her go. He'd pay for that later, if Nathan knew anything about Simone.

Tracy swiveled on her heels, linking her arm through Nathan's, hugging him quickly.

"I thought that went well," she murmured into his ear, breasts pressing against his side. Yeah, like he needed to be thinking _harder_ about sex.

"Yeah," he said with some difficulty, shaking her off. "Uh, me and Pete need to have a little talk. You understand, right?"

"Oh. I guess." She shot a look between them, misinterpreting the dark expression on Peter's face. "Try not to kill each other before I get elected."  


Nathan held Peter's gaze silently until the last echoes of her footsteps faded, before moving swiftly into the red lit darkroom, locking the door behind himself.

Peter was on him just as quickly, backing him up against the door, hands furious on his belt, mouth on his until Nathan shoved him away forcibly.

"I don't want to taste _her_ ," he ground out. "Wipe your mouth."

Peter wiped the back of his hand across his lips, making a show of licking what little there was left from his own skin until Nathan growled in annoyance. He slapped Peter's hand down, lifting up Peter's tie to rub it across Peter's face, all too aware that the offending moisture was already dry.

When he pulled back, Peter's lips looked full, bruised, too red in this light and Nathan couldn't resist pulling Peter into a biting kiss.

"You hate it, don't you?" Peter whispered, hands creeping up under Nathan's shirt, fingers tracing his ribs lightly. "The idea that I'm not always yours. You can't always control me."

"Why didn't you come to me earlier?" Nathan returned, ignoring the question. "You should have figured out about the minutes earlier. _At home_."

"So that's what that was about?" Peter laughed. He slipped back from Nathan, unbuttoning his shirt before loosening his tie. "You just wanted to get me on my knees?"

That made it sound a lot less like carefully crafted revenge.

"You should have come to me."

Peter took his tie off, still looped in a perfect half Windsor knot, and handed it to Nathan. He shed his shirt, leaving him bare chested. He didn't give Nathan any time to admire, leaning up to kiss Nathan, walking them backward to the counter until his own hip hitched up against it.

His breath was hot in Nathan's ear as he murmured, "Why would I come to you, when I could get Isaac to bend me over in here first?"

The silk of the tie felt good in Nathan's hands. Better as he brought it up to secure Peter's hands behind his back. Peter gave a short, happy grunt as Nathan pulled the material tight.

"You _didn't_."

"Right here. Yesterday."

Nathan knew it was a lie, but that hardly mattered. He wrapped the tie around one hand, winding up the loose material, jerking Peter hard to one side, making him twist against the counter until his back strained. He kept a hand hard on Peter's hip, trapping him.

Peter's hair brushed against Nathan's face as he nuzzled the line of Peter's neck, breathing so fucking loud it echoed in Nathan's ears.

"Show me," Nathan snapped, pulling back.

Peter looked delighted at the idea.

"That's what he said," he said. "'Show me what Nathan does. Show me how your brother fucks you.' He loves pretending he's _you_."

Nathan's breathing shuddered to a halt as he stared in horror at Peter, at the sweet half-smile on Peter's face, that lying slant to his mouth as he just _begged_ to get hit. He was truly tempted, but that wasn't a line he was ready to cross just yet. No matter how much Peter wanted it.

"Liar," he whispered hoarsely.

"Maybe," Peter admitted, writhing in Nathan's grasp, trying to push his cock against Nathan's, searching for friction.

Angry, harder than he'd ever been in his life, Nathan stepped away from Peter, tugging hard at the tie. Peter crashed down to his knees. And it had to hurt. It _had_ to, but that moan from Peter didn't sound unhappy at all.

Nathan touched Peter's face wonderingly, fingers light and hesitant. When Peter got like this, it was the most confusing, terrifying, hottest thing he'd ever seen. And, lately, he was always like this.

Peter turned his face into the touch, kissing Nathan's fingers before looking up at Nathan with half-lidded, amused eyes.

"So, you don't want to fuck me?" he asked, voice so low Nathan almost couldn't hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. Ridiculous fucking question. They both knew the answer, both knew why they _didn't_ do that.

Nathan walked around Peter, the lead of the tie forcing Peter to turn uncomfortably in place. He fell forward slightly when Nathan found his way back against the counter, tie taut between them, but Peter didn't move to make himself more comfortable.

"Come here," he commanded, feeling an odd emptiness as he watched Peter obey. He tried not to tremble as he unbuckled his belt, tried not to show how afraid he was. This _power_ Peter granted him... sometimes it was just too much. He sighed as he worked his trousers down, finally feeling the pressure binding his cock relieved.

Nathan's throat worked as he swallowed, breathing harsh and dry in his own ears. He ignored the self-satisfied look in Peter's dark eyes as Peter watched, inching forward on his knees, tongue coming out to wet his lips.

Peter leaned into him, mouth against Nathan's boxers, tongue wet as it circled the head of Nathan's cock where it poked out. Nathan groaned, putting his hand against Peter's face to guide him, only to drop it as soon as Peter grunted his disapproval. Fuck. The tie. Nathan was still holding it, contorting Peter's position weirdly.

He dropped it, and Peter hummed happily, licking at Nathan until he got frustrated enough to pull the material down with his teeth, giving himself full access to Nathan's cock.

"Show me," Nathan said with a soft groan. His hands scrabbled for purchase. "What did you actually do?"

Peter pulled back, not looking the slightest bit innocent as he looked up.

"Nothing at all," he said, same lying smile on his face, right before he covered Nathan's cock with his hot mouth, taking him deep.

" _Fuck_ ," Nathan breathed, fingers finding the same little half circles Simone's nails had left.

***

"Are you always like that with your brother?" Tracy asked while he recuperated, carefully reapplying her lipstick, eyes critical on her small reflection in her compact.

Panting turned to coughing for Nathan. Giving up on retucking his shirt, he turned to stare at her. Peter talked a good game, but he wouldn't. He wasn't that fucked in the head.

No really.

" _What?_ "

She corrected her lip line with her thumb nail before turning a frown on him, eyes quizzical. Mr. Bishop's Civics and student government classroom wasn't nearly as secluded a make out spot as the darkroom, but at least the lighting was better. Kissing Tracy, having her slap his hands away when he tried to slip them under her blouse, feeling her take command in crisp daylight was almost a relief compared to his dark, _lewd_ encounters with Peter of late.

"Intense. Involved. I mean, I love my sister, but I don't keep track of her every move, and I certainly don't know enough about what she's doing with DL to corner them together, even if I wanted to. Why do you care so much about what he's up to?"

"It's my job to look out for him," Nathan muttered, still unsettled. Stiffly, he tried to straighten his tie.

Tracy's laugh was sharp. "Oh, is that why we're blackmailing him?"

Nathan tore the tie off in frustration, undoing the knot and glaring it. Tracy sighed and slid from the Senate meeting table. She held her hand out expectantly, ignoring Nathan's sulkiness as he handed it over. She popped his collar up, fingers grazing lightly, provocatively across his throat while she slid the tie back on. She'd lost her heels at some point, but she was near his height even without them, her breath warm against his cheek as she leaned close.

"A better retort," she explained, "would have been that keeping track of him is helping me, so why should I care?"

"Why do you care?" he asked softly, watching her bright blue eyes for any signs of dangerous understanding. "It was days ago. Why are you even still thinking about it?"

Tracy tightened the knot with a flourish, hard and constricting around Nathan's throat – not enough to choke. Not quite. Her delicate fingers held for just a moment too long.

"Because," she said, voice quiet, suspicious, "it's too good."

"You think I'm going to stab you in the back?"

"Quicker than you'd stab your brother in the back," Tracy said, releasing him with an ungentle push.

"Then you really don't know the first thing about my brother and me." Nathan chuckled, shaking his head. Tracy did not look mollified, but off balance was a good place to have her. He had no illusions about just how tenuous their alliance was. "Come on. Claire and Zach reserved the AV room for the rest of lunch. We need to take another stab at the campaign video."

"Fine," Tracy said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "But I don't see the point. We already have enough for a rough cut."

Nathan sighed, explaining, "The point was never the ad. We need to get you to loosen up, to get some outtakes of you acting _natural_ for the viral vids."

"This is me being natural," Tracy snapped frostily.

 _That's the problem_ , Nathan didn't say, hand going to the small of her back to guide her into the empty hallway. Not for the first time, Nathan considered sneaking some booze into the filming session.

***

The small uptown boutique Nathan escorted Claire to that afternoon was spare and clean in the way only truly expensive stores were – an attendant quietly tailing each of their handful of customers, the lighting bright but not harsh, mirrors ever present. He half wished he could have convinced Claire to go vintage, but she was still cutting her teeth on the Petrelli lifestyle, too sure that pricier and more famous was better than classically elegant.

It was not that Bennet didn't make good money – Ma always made sure her men were well looked after. But life in the suburbs had been far different for Claire than Manhattan was. Sometimes there was a wistful, sad look in her eyes that made Nathan wonder if she truly preferred all the money, her new family.

And other times she seemed all too glad of it. Like when she asked _his_ brother out.

Nathan narrowed his eyes at the curved nook where Claire dressed and redressed from a rack full of gowns, a thin Japanese partition all that separated them. He still didn't understand why Peter had refused her, and it was starting to eat at him, the feeling of victory fading fast, undercut by the kind of insecurity Petrellis weren't supposed to feel.

Sex with Peter in the darkroom continued to haunt Nathan, keeping him up the night before, and not in the more pleasurable way he preferred. Peter wanted Nathan to control him. To hurt him.

 _As you wish_ , he thought almost viciously.

The click of high heels resounded against the tile, drawing Nathan's attention.

"How does it look?" Claire asked, giggling and twirling floor length blue silk. Marchesa, if Nathan wasn't mistaken. The silver sequined detailing on the bust and thin straps glittered, lit from beneath and above just so by the clever architects of the store.

Nathan felt a pit form in his stomach, head feeling heavy and hot as he stared at her. She was beautiful.

He shrugged non-committally.

"It makes you look short."

"Thanks." Claire's jaw worked, but she shook it off, opting for a smile. She stuck a bare foot out from under the hem of her dress, wiggling her toes. "And it won't if I get shoes to go with it."

"I am not buying you new shoes. Choose something that matches what you already have," he said with a barely restrained groan.

Rather than pout, Claire shrugged. Just testing the boundaries.

She disappeared behind the screen once more, and Nathan tried to ignore the slim shadow she cast, the sound of fabric rustling. He averted his eyes to his shoes.

"So, how's the campaign going?"

"So," she returned, voice pitched rather louder than he'd like, "why are you doing this for me?"

Nathan grimaced, still studying the scuffed leather of his shoe. Why wasn't a question he liked to think about. His need to control Peter only excused so much. Why was he pushing his brother into her arms?

The sound of rustling stopped, drawing Nathan's attention. Claire poked her head around the screen, hands clutched up to her chest, holding up her dress, silhouette leaving far too little to Nathan's imagination.

"And, more importantly, how? Does Peter even know he's asking me?" she asked, expression skeptical.

Smiling to cover the relief he felt, Nathan replied, "Let me worry about that."

"Uh huh. No. If Peter doesn't know, then what's he going to think when he sees me bring this dress home? He'll think I have a date!"

"About that," Nathan said, fixing her with a look. "We're going in the back. We need to hide this, and not just from Peter. From Bennet, too."

"What did you do?"

"Actually, it's what your father did. He asked me to keep you and Peter apart."

Claire's eyes widened in shock, hands nearly forgetting the clothes they kept wrapped around her. This part was tricky, not in the least because Nathan wasn't entirely sure it was the best move. But he needed a scapegoat, an ally, for if this went south. Better to pit Claire against Bennet for that eventuality than against himself. He'd have his own hands full with Peter.

And more importantly, he needed to know just how badly she wanted this.

"But why would he do that?"

"He doesn't want you to get hurt," Nathan said, eyes steady on hers.

"Peter would _never_ hurt me!"

Claire huffed out, posture relaxing from surprise into anger and then into plotting. Nathan relaxed as well. He was very familiar with this brand of Bennet family discord – the overprotective, controlling father; the rebellious, yet loyal daughter – and he knew enough to realize that Claire would pave all the roads he needed for him.

"Thanks, Nathan," she said stiffly, eyes distant as she considered her next move, lips a hard, thin line. "For telling me."

She stepped back behind the partition, finally zipping her dress all the way up, and she stepped back out again, hand on her hip, expression almost snide as she waited for his response. A shorter dress, rosy pink, fell almost to her knees in wide, puffy pleats.

"Very 'Leave It To Beaver'," Nathan quipped. "And here I thought you didn't want vintage."

"Just following your rules. I think I have red pumps that match this one."

"You can't wear a dress that short to prom, you know."

"Short is okay if it's retro," Claire said, rolling her eyes. Nathan was fairly sure she just made that up. "Make sure to get Peter to wear a red tie, okay?"

Easy as that, she was his. Nathan inclined his head, acknowledging the concession of power – he could make this happen for her, and he would. He just needed a little help from her first.

"Pete looks good in red," he admitted.

Claire grinned. "He does the whole Snow White thing very well."

Nathan let a long silence stretch between them, shifting in his seat for show, pretending to work up courage for his next words. In truth, it was hard to commit himself to this. He never liked hurting Peter, no matter what Peter said. He just tried to do what was best for his little brother.

"Claire," he started, looking down and then away. "There's something else you should know. I promised your Dad that I wouldn't let you get hurt."

"Yeah, you said..."

Nathan licked his lips, looking up at her. "But I think this will hurt you, going with Peter."

Claire shook her head slowly, long blond curls moving in a cascade over her bare shoulders. She frowned at him. "Then why are you helping?"

"I think going with Peter will hurt you if he's not really there with you. He and Simone and Isaac aren't going as friends, Claire," he said, injecting pity into his voice. "They're a _couple_. A threesome. Even if he goes with you, he'll really be there with them.

"But we could change that."

Claire sat heavily next to Nathan on the stylized, white pouffe. She knew that Peter was with them right now, in an ostensible newspaper meeting, which Nathan had pointed out to Claire as the best time to whisk her off on a shopping trip. And now, he knew, it was irresistible for her to think about just what Peter was doing elsewhere. Kissing and touching, limbs of three bodies tangled together.

Suppressing his own jealousy, it was somehow satisfying to see its mirror in Claire's expression.

"You want to break them up?"

Arm around her, he hugged her to his side and breathed lightly into her hair, "Don't you?"

He _needed_ to know how much she wanted this. Nathan always liked to know who his rivals were.

But Claire didn't respond. After a long moment, Nathan decided to take another tack.

"How is it in the trenches? Anyone swaying to Tracy's side?"

Relieved to have a new topic, Claire said, "A few. Alex messaged me in shock yesterday when she smiled at him, so people are definitely noticing a change. Zach isn't happy with the video, though. He says the part with you two singing Bowie is usable, but could cut both ways."

"Saying she will be queen was over the top?" Nathan asked wryly.

Claire snorted indelicately, not bothering to reply.

"Well," he sighed. "I suppose it's down to Simone's editorial, then. The first draft Peter showed me was decent, but it could definitely improve. I may have to have another talk with her," Nathan deliberately caught Claire's eye as he added, "Those blackmail photos are burning a hole in my hard drive."

"Why am I not surprised you blackmailed her to get her to agree to that?" Claire asked. Nathan could see the wheels start to spin, and congratulated himself on a game well played.

But still a dangerous one. He didn't know why Peter rejected Claire. It simply made no sense. And he was convinced it wasn't permanent.

Hurting Peter he could live with. _Losing_ him, he could not, but he had to know it was all for real. That he had something Claire didn't. That he was more worthy of Peter's love.

***

Nathan woke three times in the night.

First, it was his cell phone buzzing off his end table, falling to the hard wood with a loud, plastic clack. Nathan groped in the darkness, leaning over the bed to retrieve it. Squinting at the too bright LCD screen, he chuckled as he read Claire's message: "Peter will never forgive us."

Only one response came to mind – "What do you mean us?" – but that would be rather counter productive.

With a sigh and smile, he flopped back down, dropping his phone next to his pillow and falling deeply, satisfyingly asleep.

The second time he awoke, it was like a reflex, his subconscious reacting right before the pin dropped, giving him just enough time to _enjoy_ the flood of pictures, texts, and scandalized exclamations that nearly gave his phone a seizure of electronic excitement. Peter wasn't the only gossip monger in town, Nathan noted as he scrolled through the messages, and Claire's bomb shell had apparently already spread far and wide.

Swiping his thumb across the touch screen, Nathan navigated back to the pictures he'd received, opening his favorite. Peter, on his knees, hands still parting Simone's thighs, his own head tipped back as he licked his lips, cheeks flushed red.

A thought to dream on.

Later, much later, Nathan woke again, head ringing with the memory of his father's angry voice and angry hands. He stripped off his t-shirt, now sticky with a cold sweat and stared into the darkness, face pillowed on his hand. Anxiety and guilt curled in his stomach.

He didn't sleep again.

_Fucking anniversary._


	3. Prom, And Other Disasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them, emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU

Part 3 – Priorities

Vision hazy, the world too sharp, Nathan made his way downstairs the next morning with far more focus on sourcing the scent of coffee on the air than on his victory the night before. Peter cornered him at the bottom of the stairs, anger palpable and much more physical than usual, enough that Nathan automatically retreated two steps up the stairs before stepping deliberately back into Peter's space.

"What the _fuck_ , Nathan? Since when do we play this way?" Peter snapped, nervous energy underlying his anger.

He didn't look any more well rested than Nathan felt – but he hadn't for days now, dark hair growing messier from frustrated, sleepless hands carding through it, dark circles growing under his wide eyes, a fatigued shake that Nathan knew too well in his every movement. Despite himself, Nathan felt a pang of regret. They were both going through the same thing. Why was it so hard to bridge the distance between them with anything other than power games and sex?

And yet, seeing Peter before him, disheveled, lip bitten red sometime in the night as Peter tried to figure a way out of this, Nathan couldn't help the sense of triumph that unfurled across his shoulders, straightening them as he stared his brother down.

"I could ask you the same thing, Pete," Nathan returned coolly. "In fact, I think I did. Right after you published my affair with Meredith in the _school newspaper_."

Peter raked his hand through his hair, shaking his head as he denied the charge, "That was _different_. You two broke up last year. No one got hurt!"

Nathan thought about claiming he'd been hurt, but ceding that kind of ground – admitting that Peter's tactics were effective – wasn't exactly something he was interested in doing, even had it been true.

Instead, he offered idly, "I thought you said Isaac wouldn't care."

"Yeah, that's why we wrote you the editorial! Because your blackmail scheme _didn't_ work!"

"Christ, Peter, keep it down, will you? Do you want Ma to hear?" Nathan asked. When Peter's expression only grew more obstinate, jaw set and hair falling into his sullen eyes, Nathan rephrased, "Do you want _Claire_ to hear?"

Deflating some, Peter crossed his arms protectively over his chest. Looking away, he muttered, "No."

Nathan reached out, settling both hands on Peter's shoulders. Catching Peter's gaze, Nathan said firmly, "I did not send out those photos."

Peter searched his face, trying to find the lie, before slumping under his hands in defeat, no less tense and angry than before, merely without a convenient outlet.

"Why would Tracy do it?" he asked. "How is taking me down going to win her any favors?"

"Are you sure it was her?" Nathan asked with a concerned frown. "If she put the pictures on her computer, there would be a lot of people who have access. Doesn't Niki have the entire drill team over to her house a lot?"

It was clear from his expression that Peter's hope of finding the culprit was fading fast as he did the mental gymnastics, using his ridiculous knowledge of the school's public and secret relationships to calculate just how many people might have seen the photos before they were sent out if Nathan was right.

"Yeah," Peter said, eyes distant.

Swallowing past the knot of guilt in his throat, Nathan squeezed Peter's shoulders, pulling him into a quick hug before wrapping an arm around his waist to guide him to the kitchen, Peter's feet dragging the entire way. It was all for the best, though, since Peter's downcast eyes prevented him from seeing Claire's nervous scramble off her stool near the kitchen island. Nor did he see the quelling look Nathan sent her.

"So you heard too?" Peter asked, lifting his eyes momentarily.

Claire nodded stiffly before throwing herself at Peter, hugging him tightly.

"Are you okay?" she asked into his shoulder.

Peter tucked her head under his chin, closing his eyes, tension leaving his face.

"Yeah," he said. "I think I will be. I'm probably overreacting, right? It's not a big deal."

"Still, though. You shouldn't have to go through this. I'm so sorry it's hurting you," Claire said with mendacity Nathan had to admire.

Peter's thanks was muffled by her hair and they stood together a long moment. Nathan watched, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

He cleared his throat softly. And if it sounded a little like a growl, well, he was _trying_ to suppress his annoyance. He didn't say anything about succeeding.

"Enough cuddling. We have to _go_."

They broke apart slowly, Claire still clinging to Peter's arm as they followed Nathan out to the car. _Road rage doesn't help anyone_ , Nathan reminded himself, eyes on them in the rear view mirror all the way to school, hands gripping the wheel so tightly the leather left imprints in his flesh.

They jerked to a near miss with another car more than once on the way out of the city, Nathan cussing to himself and Peter rolling his eyes in the backseat. He slowed, turning into the Monroe High parking lot. Not because it _was_ a parking lot – students still zipped around, heedless of the speed bumps – nor because his temper was easing.

No, he slowed because he caught sight of the two tall, leggy women standing before his parking space: Simone and Tracy. He'd rather hoped he could delay a confrontation with them. At least until after he'd figured out what the hell he was going to say.

The air between the girls fairly shimmered with repressed animosity. Or, maybe, not so repressed, Nathan realized as he noticed the bunched and wrinkled collar of Tracy's uniform jacket, Simone's mussed hair. He must have just missed the cat fight.

With trepidation, he eased the car into his spot. Almost before he rolled to a halt, Peter was jumping out, hurrying to Simone's side to join in glowering at Tracy. Simone laced her fingers through Peter's, giving him a quick kiss and jolting a jealous sigh from Claire, still in the car.

"You really thought you'd win him over with a hug?" Nathan asked, watching Simone pull Peter away, acid seeping into his tone. "There's a _reason_ he turned you down for prom."

A reason Nathan still didn't know.

Claire glared at him in the rear view mirror, taking his tone to heart.

"You really suck at fishing for answers," she remarked, opening the door and leaving without looking back.

Tracy cocked an eyebrow, hand on her hip as she stared Nathan down through the windshield. He inclined his head toward the empty passenger seat. Like hell he was going to have this discussion out in the open. Tracy's mouth twisted sarcastically, before she straightened her shoulders, tossing her hair as she walked over to the car door and sat beside him.

She crossed her arms and Nathan sighed.

"Pretend we aren't fighting, Trace. You don't want the gossips seeing us fight."

"I don't need your advice, Petrelli," she warned, consciously relaxing her posture nonetheless. "Now, explain."

Nathan considered for a moment. He'd gotten a copy of the editorial off of Peter, forwarded it to Tracy – and he was more than sure Tracy had already discussed that particular nuance with Simone during their apparent tussle. He was sure that Tracy was uninterested in the more lurid motivations Nathan had, or at least uninterested in the ones that were legal and he was willing to admit to.

In the end, he settled on saying simply, "I convinced Claire to release the photos."

"So Claire takes the heat? How did you get her to agree to that?"

Suppressing at smile at her priorities, Nathan said, "No one takes the heat. It was an anonymous message. No one knows where it started."

"Which casts suspicion back on us! Simone and Peter have no reason to be doing us any favors, and we need the culprit's identity to come from _them_."

Nathan stretched, laying an arm across Tracy's stiff shoulders, and smiled at Daphne and Ando as they passed in front of the car.

"It will. I told Peter that the photos were on your computer, and that any one of your or Niki's friends would have had access."

Tracy turned her head, nuzzling against his arm, eyes flashing with anger.

"You're blaming Niki."

"Don't start clutching your pearls now. Either you want to win, or you don't."

"I didn't realize you meddling in your little brother's love life had anything to do with me winning."

Her hand crept across his thigh, fingernails making their presence known. Nathan decided he'd rather end this conversation sooner rather than later.

"Think about it," he urged. "You know what happens next. The whole school is buzzing, talking about those pictures. Niki's reputation is tarnished, and _your_ editorial is still going to press. It looks like Simone is choosing you over her, and between that and whatever meltdown _Isaac_ has over all of this, everyone is going to be too busy choosing side to notice all of your very, very obvious conniving.

"So," he said, removing her hand, fingers a hard vise around her thin wrist. He leaned closer to her, brushing a whisper against her ear, "Get out there, and connive."

***

Fourth period. Nathan had Public Speaking, and Peter had lunch. The day had been calm so far. He was actually surprised it was taking this long.

He slid into his seat next to where Tracy sat, body half turned as she giggled and smiled at an underclassman's joke. He'd seen her earlier, in the hall, giving small helix-shaped class pins that were supposed to be reserved for Senate members only to a group of cheerleaders. A smart move, if obvious. The cheerleaders were the drill team's natural enemies, and Claire personally still bore a grudge over being kept off the drill team.

It looked like Tracy had followed his advice.

"How's the courtship going?" he wrote, tossing a note into her lap.

She flashed an apologetic smile at the underclassman – Louis? Luke? Something like that – and snatched up her pen, eye roll somehow infusing her words on the paper: "They invited me to the prom makeovers. They're mine."

Nathan smoothed his thumb over the delicate loops of her writing, wondering at the foreboding he felt. He'd never intended to betray Tracy – why bother, when he accomplished so many of his own goals through her? But he still wasn't entirely pleased at the idea of her success. Perhaps he was just as selfish as Peter said. He could never be happy at anyone else's victory.

He welcomed the sound of shouting and commotion from the hallway. Students murmuring and rushing to the door to peek out, Nathan rose more slowly, sedately maneuvering past them right as something shattered violently nearby. Students from Mr. Thompson's literature class across the way joined the already curious onlookers.

Looking over Matt's shoulder, he could see a glitter of broken glass halfway down the hall. The window of Mr. Raines's room.

"What's this about?" Matt asked.

Nathan frowned at Matt's profile. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone was in the loop.

"Ask Audrey," he said, brushing it off, attention focused on the boys stumbling past the broken door, out into the hallway.

"Son of a bitch!" Isaac swore, voice low but angry enough to carry as he took another swing at Peter, glass grinding into the tile beneath his feet.

_Revenge_ , Nathan couldn't help thinking, _is sweet._

Peter grimaced, shifting just enough to avoid the blow. Even from this distance, Nathan could see the hurt in his eyes, but Peter said nothing. His posture was tense from all the watching eyes, and Nathan knew he wouldn't publicly mention his own romantic involvement with Isaac. If Nathan had to guess, trying that route was probably what led to the violence to begin with.

Simone was nowhere to be seen.

Peter cast a quick look behind him, feeling the shift in the crowd, sensing Bennet try to push through the crush almost before Nathan saw him. Isaac took the opening, laying Peter out with a swift hook to Peter's cheek.

"Fuck," Nathan swore, struggling past Matt to grab Isaac before he realized what he was doing, knocking him to the floor and putting a knee in his back to subdue him.

Gasping, Peter pulled himself to sit. He wiped blood from his face with raw knuckles, making Nathan blink in surprise. He guessed Peter had gotten in a couple of punches, after all.

"Thanks," Peter said, catching Nathan's eye.

"Enough of the floor show," Bennet called, cutting off Nathan's response. "Back to class!"

He gestured sharply to the man following him, Hesam, the school nurse. Hesam carefully levered Mr. Raines's door back open, going to attend whomever was left in the wreckage Peter and Isaac had created. Nathan scowled after him, quite sure that Peter was in need of more attention. Peter made to stand, eyes following Hesam, anxious tension in the lines of his body.

"Simone! I need to see her. She's hurt!" Peter said, subsiding when Bennet fixed him with quelling look, although Nathan could see he was biding his time, trying to think when he would have an opportunity to get away and check on his girlfriend.

Knee still in Isaac's back, he felt the other boy tremble at Simone's name. He breathed with quiet self-recrimination, " _Fuck_."

The other students were quick to heed Bennet's orders, excited murmur following them back to their classrooms, the seed of all the rumors to come.

Fluorescent light glinting off Bennet's glasses to obscure his eyes, he jerked his chin up at Nathan, indicating that he should release Isaac. Giving him one last, hard nudge in the back that provoked a grunt of pain, Nathan stood and backed away, letting Isaac stand. Bennet helped Peter to his feet.

"You two, in my office. Nathan, go back to class."

"Sir," Nathan started, "Peter's hurt. He needs to see the nurse."

"I'm _fine_. I need to check on Simone," Peter insisted.

"After what I just saw, I don't think she's in any mood to see you," Noah said harshly. He turned his gave to Nathan, adding, "And Hesam has other priorities."

Balling his fist, Nathan stepped closer, placing a careful hand on Bennet's elbow.

"Peter is _my_ responsibility, sir," he said, subtle with his emphasis, trying not to play this card too hard. He didn't want Peter to notice, but he couldn't let Bennet think he'd forgotten their talk.

Bennet clearly hadn't. He considered their deal, letting out a long, "Hmm."

"Nathan, I'm fine," Peter protested, and it was all Nathan could do not to shake him. He didn't need to start being upstanding and responsible _now_ of all times.

"Alright, Petrelli. You get that shiner of his checked out, take him home, and make sure he's sorted before Angela gets home and tans my hide. Fighting is an automatic week's suspension, and we'll sort out the rest tomorrow.

"And you," he said, taking a ruffled, still angry looking Isaac by the arm, "are with me."

***

Peter sulked the whole car ride back into the city, shoulders slumped and face turned away to hide the swelling on his right cheek. At a traffic light, Nathan called ahead to the staff, giving them the afternoon off and asking just where the first aid kit was anyway.

Taking pity on him, the staff left the kit on the foyer table, between the cut lilies and the porcelain bowl Nathan dropped his keys into. Taking up the kit, he looked back at his brother where he lingered on the threshold, one hand curled around a metal twist in the door's ornate design, his other arm wrapped around himself enough to cause Nathan concern.

"Did he get you in the ribs?"

Startled, Peter jerked away from the door, letting both arms fall to his side.

"No. I told you Nathan, I'm fine."

"We'll see about that. C'mere," he said, extending a hand and very relieved when Peter took it, palm warm and dry against his own. "Let's check you out upstairs."

Peter followed docilely enough as Nathan led him up, settling him onto his own bed and then darting out for a moment to gather towels from the bathroom. When he returned, Peter had stripped off his shirt, expression sardonic as he indicated his bruise free torso.

"Okay, no busted ribs. I get it. What about that face of yours?"

Although, Nathan had to admit, the fact that Peter was making sardonic expressions at all was a pretty good indication that nothing was fractured there either. Nathan crouched in front of Peter on the floor, fingers careful on Peter's face as he probed, not even really sure what he was looking for. He looked closely at the pupils of Peter's eyes, trying to gauge the severity of head trauma.

"Are they dilated?" Peter asked.

"What?" Nathan squinted, looking again. "No."

Peter snorted, snatching up Nathan's hand in his good one, passing it in front of his own eyes as a test, following the line of movement smoothly. Right, right. He'd seen all this in the movies before. He washed Peter's face off with a warm, wet towel before applying antiseptic, making Peter hiss in pain. Digging into the first aid kit, he snapped a cold pack, mixing the chemicals together and tried to press it to Peter's swollen cheek.

Flinching away, Peter said, "You'd better save that for my hand."

"We're Petrellis, Peter. We can afford to buy another."

He pressed it again to Peter's cheek, waiting until Peter moved to hold it before examining Peter's right hand.

And hell, Peter was right. It looked much, much worse than his cheek.

"So, talk to me," Nathan said. "What happened with Isaac?"

"What do you think happened? He was pissed about the pictures, starting yelling at me about how he always knew I was trying to steal Simone from him, and started throwing punches."

"I thought you two had a thing," Nathan noted, turning Peter's hand over to see crescent shaped cuts in his palm. He really did need to teach Peter to throw a punch. "You and Isaac, I mean."

"Well, apparently those broom closet blow jobs just don't mean as much to him as they do to me," Peter said sarcastically, before sighing at Nathan's clumsy ministrations.

"Clean it with antiseptic, and then check each bone with your fingers," Peter instructed, putting down the cold pack for a moment to demonstrate the pinching motion.

Nathan nodded. Cleaning carefully around the distended joint of his middle finger, Nathan joked, "Guess you watched too much _ER_ as a kid, eh?"

"Of course, best way to learn," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "I like talking with Hesam sometimes."

Nathan frowned and pressed too hard.

"You mean flirting with."

Peter drew back immediately, pushing Nathan away and glaring harshly.

"No, I mean talking with. Christ, Nathan, not everything is about sex."

"It is with you," Nathan said, words a needle sharp reflex, a keen, almost awful way to flip the switch with Peter. He regretted it as soon as he said it, but it didn't stop him from hoping it worked.

But instead of turning coyly flirtatious, Peter stared at him for a long moment, expression inscrutable before he appeared to make a choice. He cocked his head, amused, hard light in his eyes.

"It is, isn't it?"

Peter slid from the bed, pushing Nathan lightly to topple him onto his ass, legs still bent as his feet butted up against the wooden base board of the bed frame. Straddling Nathan's hips, Peter pinned Nathan's chest against the floor with his good hand hard on Nathan's sternum, knees digging in high under Nathan's arms.

Jaw working, Peter smiled angrily.

"It's why they leave. Because, I can't _help_ it, right? I'm just that much of a slut."

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Pete," Nathan breathed. He commanded his heart to slow, to stop racing at Peter's unexpected aggression. He hadn't quite rehearsed those words, but as ever, Peter could read his intentions. His plan had been subtle, perhaps underhanded as well, a more unassuming approach. Comfort, brotherly affection, and leading questions.

Questions that got to the root of their problem, that damned anniversary, their father and all the horrible memories Nathan couldn't quite shake. The good ones that drove them apart because even now, _even now_ – sheen of tears in Peter's eyes, distant look that meant he was thinking about Dad – Nathan couldn't hate the man.

He could be here, though, even if he hadn't meant it to happen this way.

"But you won't leave," Peter whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against Nathan's, hand on Nathan's chest taking more weight, pressing down painfully. The ridge of his erection prodded into Nathan's stomach, but Peter ignored it, hips perfectly still, face flushed as he played another of his stupid games.

And then, abruptly, the pressure was gone. Peter pulled himself up to stand again, mouth a flat line as he stared down at Nathan.

"They can always tell, you know," he started conversationally. "They can tell there's something wrong with me. Something missing when I'm with them."

Shaking his head, Nathan braced a hand against the soft carpeting, getting his feet under himself to stand.

"There's nothing wrong–"

Peter put out a hand, drawing him up the rest of the way. He stumbled slightly, stepping on Peter's sneakers, not allowed to pull back when he righted himself because Peter hands were firm on his waist, holding him still.

"There's something wrong, because when I'm with them," Peter said right into Nathan's ear, breath hot, forehead tilted against Nathan's own, "I'm thinking about you. I'm yours, Nathan."

Nathan smiled, bringing a hand up to rub the smooth skin of Peter's back, turning to kiss the side of Peter's face.

"You are."

_Mine and not his._

"Don't you want to fuck me, Nathan?" Peter asked like he was reading Nathan's mind. Nathan could _feel_ the corner of Peter's smile under his lips, the excited thrum of Peter's heart vibrating into his own chest.

He had to catch his breath.

Licking his lips, Nathan twisted from the embrace, trying to look into Peter's eyes, but Peter was already turned away, working one handed on his uniform trousers and toeing off his shoes.

"You're sure, Pete? I thought you had a policy."

Peter slipped off his pants and his boxers in one go, leaning over to rifle through a drawer; Nathan tugged at his tie, breathing suddenly difficult. He was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, very close to just deciding that he had too many shirts to begin with and certainly wouldn't miss this one, when Peter straightened, brow furrowed as he stared at an unlabeled bottle.

Glancing over his shoulder, Peter offered a flat look.

"He's dead, Nathan. I'm moving on. I'd rather remember _you_."

Nathan shivered slightly at the pronouncement – and not entirely from arousal. He'd known, sometimes he thought he'd known before it started, from the looks Dad cast Peter's way. But he'd never heard Peter talk about it so coldly.

He'd never heard Peter compare them, much as he sometimes did in his own head.

Peter turned, flipping the bottle over to Nathan. Some kind of lotion, Nathan noted, looking down at it and trying not to feel a disappointed. He guessed Peter hadn't planned for this.

Tossing the bottle past Peter to land on the bed, Nathan finally got the last of his buttons undone and dropped his shirt to the floor. He shot an expectant expression over toward Peter, toward the end of getting Peter to help with the rest, but Peter merely sat on the bed, knee bouncing with nerves, eyes averted.

Shrugging slightly, and ignoring the pit in his stomach, Nathan unfastened his belt, leaving his trousers a puddle on the floor. Sitting lightly next to Peter on the bed, he didn't reach out to touch, instead asking, "How do you want to–"

"Just kiss me," Peter interrupted, turning quickly, hands on Nathan's shoulders.

Nathan obliged, sliding his mouth softly over Peter's. He raised a hand, brushing his thumb across Peter's jaw, eliciting a weak, needy sound from Peter, who surged up against him, hands clutching as he drew Nathan into a deeper kiss.

Groaning with satisfaction, Nathan let his hand drop to where Peter's hard cock nudged against his thigh. Peter gasped at Nathan's firm strokes, breaking the kiss to press his face into Nathan's neck, whimpering.

The room felt too quiet, silent but for their breathing. Nathan closed his eyes, trying to shake the feeling of unreality.

"Lay back," he whispered, feeling Peter nod slightly against him, before the heat of his body disappeared.

Opening his eyes, he saw Peter laid out in the middle of the bed, eyes staring at the posters above him, bruised and raw right hand cradled against his firm belly. Feeling his cock twitch at the sight, Nathan shifted, hooking his thumbs into his boxers to pull them off before crawling to kneel over Peter.

Peter's gaze flicked down from the ceiling to Nathan's face, momentarily.

"You should start with your fingers," he advised.

Nathan smiled, kissing Peter again as he reached for the lotion bottle.

"I know."

Peter spread his legs wide to bare himself while Nathan slicked up his fingers. Leaning over Peter for a kiss, Nathan worked his fingers into Peter's ass slowly, feeling himself soften when Peter flinched at the intrusion.

"Pete, if you don't want to, we don't have to," he said quietly.

Heedless of his hurt hand, Peter grabbed Nathan by the back of his head, pulling him into a fierce kiss.

"Shut up, Nathan."

Nodding jerkily after they broke apart, Nathan continued to stretch Peter open, keeping a careful eye on Peter's expression. Grimacing at the unease he felt, he again grasped Peter's cock, pumping in counterpoint to his fingers, tension melting from his muscles as he made Peter throw his head back, mouth slack with pleasure.

Disengaging his fingers from Peter's entrance, Nathan kept a steady pace on his cock, pausing long enough to slick himself up and position himself before thrusting in.

Breath stuttering from him, Nathan gasped out, "Christ."

He was _tight_. Nathan shuddered, hand flat on Peter's stomach as he tried to control himself, eyes squeezing shut as he fought to breathe. Peter shifted beneath him, opening his legs wider before wrapping one around Nathan, causing a jolt of sensation to travel up Nathan's spine.

" _Nathan_ ," Peter groaned.

Steadying himself, hands braced on the bed, Nathan cracked his eyes open to see Peter sweat and tremble beneath him, expression strained but _there_. Finally looking back at Nathan and there with him in the moment.

Relieved, Nathan arched to kiss Peter forehead and then press his face to Peter's cheek, just listening to him breathe.

"I was worried there," he managed.

Peter laughed roughly.

"Well, don't be. I _need_ this. I need you, Nathan." Peter's breath hitched and he arched his back, urging Nathan to move. " _Nathan_."

The break in his voice was more than enough motivation for Nathan. With a grunt, he withdrew as far as he could from Peter, before pushing back in, setting a driving pace that Peter matched, smirk on his lips as he wrapped a hand around his own cock.

Eyes locked on Peter's, reveling in a feeling of _connection_ with Peter he'd never experienced before, Nathan felt his balls tighten, his release building. Hips jerking, he came with a deep groan, smiling a little at the annoyed twitch of Peter's eyebrows.

"Help me out here?" Peter groused, squirming with frustration, eyes bright and teeth bared as he panted out harsh breaths.

Chuckling, Nathan slipped from Peter, moving to lay down beside him. He kissed Peter's neck idly, hand joining Peter's, squeezing and slipping with the lotion still on his hand and Peter's pre-cum both. Eyes fluttering closed, Peter gasped and arched, sticky wetness covering both their hands.

Peter wiped his hand against the sheets, curling against Nathan with a sigh. There was a still a fretful line between his eyebrows that Nathan pressed two fingers against, trying to smooth it out. Peter shook him off, resting his chin on Nathan's shoulder as they lay on their sides.

"How do you feel?" Nathan asked. He stroked one hand down Peter's back, tracing his spine in beads of sweat, wondering what the answer he was looking for was. Maybe _complete_ , or _perfect_. _Controlled_ , since that was what Peter always seemed to be pushing for.

Peter pressed his sticky hand against Nathan's back, laughing lowly.

"Disgusting," he said in a bratty tone that made Nathan want to hit him. Nathan felt eyelashes against his cheek, and Peter sounded almost sincere when he said, "I'm sorry I ruined your plan."

Nathan stilled his hand on Peter's back.

"What plan?"

"The one to get me to go to the prom with Claire. Sorry for messing that up. I'm suspended, and there's no way Noah will lift that to let me take his daughter out."

"You knew?" Nathan asked, covering the disappointment he felt at Peter's words. He hadn't even realized the full implications of the fight. He should have been thrilled, since he was eliminating three romantic rivals at once, but there wasn't much point to the prom if Peter couldn't attend.

"You weren't very subtle. Mmph," Peter mumbled, shifting positions to lie more comfortably, "I didn't really get it, though. Why were you throwing me at her?"

"You're mine, remember?" Nathan lied. "I can do what I want with you."

"Whatever. You're a crappy dom. No way that's the real reason."

Nathan shivered. He'd never really thought of their relationship in that context.

"Why did you turn her down?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Peter pulled back from him, stretching and blinking sleepily at he looked up into Nathan's face. He considered his words, before shrugging.

"I love her too much. She's my sister. I'm not going to do that to her."

His words left Nathan feeling very cold, even before Peter stood, mumbling something about getting a shower. Despite himself, Nathan couldn't fight his weariness, and he drifted to sleep, sick knot in his stomach bigger than ever.


	4. Prom, And Other Disasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them, emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU

Part 4 - Power (or a lack thereof)

Nathan pulled into the school parking lot on Friday morning sloppily, silence of the car disquieting. Peter was at home, stewing – well, Nathan liked to think he was, at least. He was probably still asleep, and would be until the maid knocked on his door well into the afternoon. Then, hopefully, there would be brooding. Guilt wracked, agonized _brooding_

The knot in his stomach had not been eased by sleep, nor by Peter's resumption of his childish, annoying games. Flirting glances with Claire at dinner, despite everything he'd said. An apologetic call to Mr. Raines that set Nathan's teeth on edge. Pleading with Simone, honeyed words and affectionate nicknames on his tongue.

Even the memory of Peter tight around him, body pliant and hot only exacerbated Nathan's foul mood. A few times during the evening, Peter would glance up, catch his eye, shared memory whispering between them, _That's all you get of me, Nathan._

If he didn't know better, he'd be convinced that Peter had done it on purpose, giving Nathan exactly what he wanted before snatching it away. Another one of their games, another taunt pushing Nathan to take things further. But it didn't make sense. Peter didn't _get_ it. Peter thought sex was everything.

He wouldn't think he was removing Claire to a pedestal, making her unreachable and incorruptible. He would think he was affirming Nathan as the center of his world, binding them tighter rather than pushing them apart. It was impossible that he could know how jealous he was making Nathan.

But the alternative was worse. If Peter wasn't toying with Nathan, then he was sincere, and perhaps not even aware of the charge he was leveling: _You don't love me._ _You're not my brother anymore._

That stung more than any of Peter's affairs ever could.

Unfocused, it was only by chance that he managed to avoid running over Hiro Nakamura where he stood. Reflexes dulled by lack of sleep, Nathan hit the brakes as hard as he could, cursing himself for ever befriending the kid and thus heaping even more guilt on himself over _killing_ him.

"What?" Claire blurted, half awake only moments before and now clutching her safety belt with white knuckles, still staring at the place Hiro had just been standing.

Hiro himself seemed unaffected, rushing over to Nathan's window to rap on it hurriedly, voice muffled as he called, "Nee-san!"

Thumbing the window control, Nathan cocked an eyebrow at Hiro. He'd always had a soft spot for the kid.

"President Nee-san! There is very very big emergency! You must come immediately!"

"Slow down, Hiro. What kind of emergency?"

"It is prom. There is no more place! We must go _now_! There is meeting, in a Senate."

Nathan shared a look with Claire, mouthing "I have _no_ idea," to her and wondering if Hiro had finally let the pressure of being psychotically energetic and optimistic get to him. Smacking him slightly on the arm, she leaned over Nathan, smiling kindly at Hiro.

"You mean the problem is with the prom? The place we're having prom?"

Hiro nodded furiously, reaching into the car to pull at Nathan's hand.

"There is meeting," he repeated.

"Let me open the door first," Nathan snapped, irritation growing alongside anxiety. How could there be a meeting without him? Someone should – Heidi, she was Class Secretary – should have sent him a message.

Getting out, Nathan slammed the door behind him, barely noticing Claire scramble out as well before he pressed the keyless lock. Hiro tugged once more on Nathan's arm, and then stopped, staring past him.

Nathan turned, unpleasantly surprised to see Tracy approaching, flanked by Mohinder and Eden. He shot a nasty look over at Mohinder, wondering why his former ally hadn't given him the heads up, but all Mohinder did was shrug apologetically. It looked like the winds of change had come to the Senate prematurely, and Nathan was not at all pleased.

He didn't _do_ lame duck.

"I take it you are here to explain why my friend," he wrapped an arm around Hiro, smiling a shark's mouth full of teeth at Tracy, "was so worked up?"

"I honestly wouldn't know anything about _that_. But I do know what's worrying the senior class of Monroe High, Nathan. There isn't going to be any prom," Tracy pronounced.

"What _the hell_ are you talking about?"

Tracy folded her arms, thin lips betraying only the barest curve of a smile. She nodded to Mohinder, urging him to explain. Nathan tilted his head, eyes boring into hers.

"It seems that, during the altercation yesterday between your brother and Isaac, Simone was injured. Not seriously, from what her father told us, but enough that she will not be able to attend class or the prom."

"Or show her pretty face again for a long time," Tracy added.

"Her father was not pleased," Mohinder said, tone gentling as he got to the crux of the matter. "He has decided to deny us use of the Deveaux building for prom."

"And you didn't call me," Nathan said flatly.

"Given your brother's involvement in Simone's injuries, I didn't see how that would help our cause any," Tracy said.

Eden shifted her stance, drawing his attention. Head cheerleader, she and Tracy were not natural allies, but Nathan supposed he had himself to blame for this. In the Senate, she was typically more of a peace broker than a partisan, and seeing her at Tracy's side cut deeper than losing Mohinder.

"And since we already signed even more power away to _you_ , we thought we'd ask for that back," she said, wide eyes dark with annoyance.

"I've already drafted the proposal," Tracy said. "And reallocation of the rental money toward an exploratory committee for a class gift from next year's graduating seniors. You just need to sign them."

"You mean your class," Nathan said.

Tracy's composure broke as she allowed herself a wide smile.

"Yes. I do."

"That's your plan? You're trading away the prom of the _entire senior class_ just to plant a fucking tree in the quad?"

"Nathan, I don't plan. That's what you do – and why you lost. Plans fall apart. I just take advantage of the situation I get."

Nathan took a step closer to her, hand clenched at his side as he gritted his teeth. Slowly uncurling it, he brushed Tracy's hair off her neck, even angrier as he felt how slow, how even her pulse was beneath his touch.

"If there's no prom, then you won't be queen."

"The prom was never the point," Tracy whispered, leaning into his touch. Beside them both, he could hear Mohinder and Eden shifting uneasily, choosing a tactical retreat now that things were getting ugly. "The campaign was the point. I'll be President, and I never have to betray my sister."

"She doesn't get to be queen either, you realize. You still stole that from her."

"No. You did."

"You really think I'm going to sign anything?" he growled.

"Of course not," she laughed.

"Then what the hell is this? Why did you bother?"

"Nathan... you underestimate just how fun it is watching you squirm."

Tracy pushed lightly at his chest, hair swishing as she turned to walk away, hips swaying with her confident stride. Nathan swallowed, head throbbing, fist clenched again with the desire to punch something.

***

Nathan seethed the entire drive home, taut line of stress throbbing across his back. Claire remained pleasantly, blessedly silent in the passenger seat, although Nathan imagined he could smell her self-righteous reproach seeping into the air. He cracked a window, but only inhaled New York smog for his efforts.

The day had, frankly, sucked. Tracy's grandstanding had actually been the highlight, since then at least he'd had the pleasure of watching her walk away.

It was not that his fellow students were accusatory. There was no way they could know the role he played in releasing the compromising photos of Peter and Simone, sparking the fight between Peter and Isaac, setting off the entire chain of events leading to the cancellation of prom. Not without Tracy compromising herself, anyway, and she apparently lacked his hubris. She was too smart to make his mistakes.

However, it was pretty unmistakable that the Student Senate existed for three purposes only: padding the college applications of ambitious egotists, levying parking fees, and _planning prom_.

The cold hush that silenced each classroom as he entered it had been tolerable, if annoying. Nathan understood the politics of remorse: keep your head down, weather the storm, and plot your comeback. The pity in his teachers' eyes was a different matter altogether. It was enough to transform his shock and penitence into barely leashed rage. He was fully aware that his political relevance was circling Nader like levels. He didn't need Dr. Suresh's kindly guiding hand on his elbow, soft advice in his ear as he tried to explain how little misfortunes like this mattered "in the real world" and how important such "growth experiences" were for the man he would one day be.

He'd made it through the rest of the day via a combination of finely honed political skill – better known as hiding – and nuanced justifications of his position – glaring at people until they went away.

Arriving home, Nathan didn't run up the stairs to his room. He had more dignity than that. He did slam his door as hard as he could, rattling the hinges and prompting an annoyed thump from the wall he shared with Peter. Still in bed, no doubt. Probably revisiting his idea of a good afternoon with copies of the blackmail pics.

Nathan swallowed thickly, staring at that wall. Peter's side was papered over with posters and newspaper articles – headlines pasted over and under each other in a form of ironic, free form poetry that Peter seemed to find endlessly amusing. He was always tearing pages down, rearranging them, underlining and highlighting phrases to make new, twisted stories.

Nathan's side was more sedate. There were a myriad of certificates and awards on his wall, each more meaningless than the last. His Certificate of Merit from the National Merit Scholarship Program. A blue ribbon from the State Mock Trial Championship. The award for his debate team victory earlier that year, when he humiliated the team from Kensei Preparatory.

A Little League Baseball trophy, from a game he remembered only in pieces. Dad got mad enough at the umpire that he nearly got the entire family thrown from the park, Nathan recalled. He closed his eyes, easily bringing to mind Ma's stubborn expression, the mirror of it on Peter's small face. Back when Nathan was the big brother, and Peter the tag along who always tried to catch up.

He reached out to pick up the trophy. It was cheap, really. Plastic and gold paint, wood veneer on plywood for the base. He ran his thumb over the tiny etching of his name on the plaque – just Petrelli because there wasn't enough space for his first name.

"Nathan?" Claire called, making Nathan start, nearly dropping the trophy. He turned, clutching it closer to his chest.

"What?"

She frowned, but kept her tone peaceable.

"Dinner. Dad and Angela are waiting."

"Fine. I'll be down."

"Do you have a problem with me?" Claire asked, crossing her arms. "Because I'm not Tracy."

"Thanks for the clarification."

"Even though I think I agree with her. You pretty much suck."

Oh, this was exactly what he needed. He wondered why exactly he just hadn't left her at school.

He narrowed his eyes at her, advising, "Get over it. You weren't supposed to go to prom to begin with. You didn't lose anything."

"If you think that's what this is about, you really are slow. You screwed over the school, Nathan. You screwed over _Peter_."

Nathan walked back to his shelves and set the trophy down with a clunk. He stared hard at the wall, thinking of Peter on the other side.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is!" Claire stalked toward him, pulling on his arm and dropping her voice to a furious whisper. "I know you were pretending it was about the election, or Tracy, or whatever, but you used all of us! You were just trying to get back at Peter for the Meredith story all along. And the funny thing is that you deserve everything you've gotten, but we don't and _he_ doesn't."

"That's certainly an interesting way of spinning it. Because, Claire, from where I stand, you really aren't so innocent. I didn't send out the photos. And I don't remember it being particularly difficult to convince you."

_If Peter only knew_ , he thought spitefully.

Claire clenched her jaw, looking away as she admitted, "Maybe not. But it still doesn't make you right."

Nathan rolled his head from side to side, working out the kinks. He fixed her with an irritable look.

"What's your point?"

She pressed her lips together before saying, voice low, "Don't make deals you don't intend to follow up on."

"Right. Got it."

Invoking the trade of the campaign videos for a date with Peter didn't precisely strike Nathan as the smartest gambit around – but she was young. Mistakes were to be expected.

Claire huffed out a breath, shaking her head as she left to roust Peter.

Downstairs, Nathan realized with a shiver that he recognized the scent on the air. His mother's cooking. It seemed she was starting to make a tradition of it, since she had done the same in the days surrounding the first anniversary of Dad's death as well. She'd said something at the time about how it was a private time for their family to mourn, giving the staff time off and taking over a minimal number of the duties.

But for Nathan there was something profoundly disturbing and ominous about the fact that she chose to commemorate her husband's death this way. He hoped she wasn't making Dad's last meal for them.

He settled into his customary chair, next to the end where his mother sat, across from where Peter would sit, with Bennet at the other end and Claire at his side. The table was already set, fine bone china on burgundy linen, silver sharp under the orange glow of the lit tapers. The flower centerpiece had been replaced by the salad Nathan eyed warily.

Ma emerged from the kitchen. Bennet followed, carrying dishes.

"Nathan. How wonderful of you to join us."

"Sorry I kept you waiting, Ma."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and Nathan made a mental note to rehearse his sincerity more often. He was saved from the need to give it another attempt, however, by Peter and Claire entering. Claire walked over to Bennet, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before sitting, concerned eyes cast behind her to where Peter lingered on the threshold, looking barely coherent. His eyes were red, arms pale where he hugged himself anxiously, clothes wrinkled and looking slept in. No, they had been slept in, Nathan was sure. They were the same clothes Peter had worn the day before and slipped back into after they'd had sex.

The bruise on his face looked particularly bad. Despite his ministrations the day before, it was puffy and deeply purple, although not quite nasty enough to swell Peter's eye shut. Ma inhaled sharply at the sight, rising to coo at him.

Nathan clenched his hands into fists, pressing them against his knees under the table as he stared at Peter and his mother, guilt and jealousy roiling in his stomach.

Ma led Peter back to the table, moving his chair closer to her own and keeping their hands linked even as they sat. Peter seemed indifferent to the attention, as easy to position as a doll.

"Dad?" Claire started plaintively. "Are you really going to suspend Peter? He didn't do anything wrong."

"He was fighting, Claire-bear. The rules are clear enough." He said, before directing his attention toward Peter, "I'm sorry, Peter."

If it had been Dad, Peter would have retorted something sarcastic about the irony of a mobster lecturing about rules and fairness. Even with Bennet, under normal circumstances, Peter would not let such casual hypocrisy go without comment. Today he seemed unaware of the attention, slumped in his chair, free hand toying with the edge of his knife.

"Noah, I think it is clear that he has been punished enough," Ma said.

"We've talked about this, Angela."

"And we will talk about it again," Ma rebuked, eyes hard, hand still entwined with Peter's. "Later."

Bennet nodded stiffly, and Nathan wondered how much he knew about the significance of this meal. He was a Company man, Ma's right hand for years before her husband's untimely death, involved in more than a few of the more unsavory aspects of the family business. He probably knew more about Dad's death than Nathan did himself, and yet he seemed almost oblivious to the effect it had on the family, the still healing fractures that were visible in each of them.

Maybe that's why he wanted to stick by the rules and leave Peter alone in the house where his father had died, the house where his father had hurt him, at the worst possible time of year. As if hearing the thought, Peter slumped further into his seat. He brought his free hand up to rub at his weary eyes, only to flinch as he remembered the still vivid bruising around his cheek. Claire winced, eyes wide and round as she watched him.

_Or, maybe he just wants to keep Peter from Claire_ , Nathan thought. He could sympathize with that impulse.

Nathan stabbed at a tomato, anxiety and paranoia eating at him. He'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Nathan, slow down. It's a fork, not a shovel," his mother chided abruptly. Nathan sat up straighter under her gaze, forcing an obedient nod.

"And Peter," she sighed, patting his hand before freeing it, "you should _eat_ something. You're too thin."

Claire caught Nathan's eye, offering a commiserating look. He tried not to remember how often they had complained about his mother's unfairness – easy to do when he reminded himself that she still had Bennet's favor, and his father was dead.

"I had quite an interesting conversation with Millie today," Ma began. "She showed me the most interesting website, with all of these short videos. Did you know you can put them on the internet yourself?"

Nathan rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Ma. I have been on the internet before."

"Well, I was quite impressed. Particularly when she showed me a video of you, Nathan."

Nathan straightened, eyes going to hers. He fought an insane moment of panic. He hadn't filmed anything incriminating. Peter wouldn't have, couldn't have. Nonetheless, the aftertaste of the salad's vinaigrette turned disturbingly sour-sweet in his mouth, and he set down his fork, trying to remain calm.

"She did?" he asked after a long pause, realizing she expected him to participate.

"Yes. I am afraid I didn't quite see the point of the video. Why were you campaigning for this Tracy Strauss?"

"She's a friend, Ma."

"Friends don't make you put their future ahead of yours, Nathan. This Tracy has cost you a lot."

Exhaling carefully, Nathan allowed his posture to relax slightly. The prom. She was just harping on after the prom.

"It's just a dance."

"It's an opportunity," Bennet inserted, suddenly reminded Nathan of how public the airing of these problems actually was. Nathan surveyed the table, taking in Claire's ill-concealed plotting, Peter's bleary unease, and Bennet's mild paternalism. He always did hate that look on Bennet's face – like he was happy to extend a fatherly helping hand to his step-children, like he was something more than a replacement. Like he cared more than Dad had, never mind that Nathan knew just how true that was.

"To _what_?" Nathan laughed, nagging feeling of claustrophobia developing between the twinned piercing looks of Bennet and his mother. "Be even more of a laughing stock?"

"To take your rightful role in the family, Nathan. You know that this mess can easily be fixed."

"You'd call Mr. Deveaux for me?"

"I already did," Bennet said. "He's a lost cause. But there is still..."

_Linderman._

"No," Nathan said roughly.

Ma tilted he head, small smile on her lips. An unkind reminder that she was conceding momentarily, but not forever.

"So there's still no prom?" Claire asked.

"Apparently not, dear."

Claire sighed, putting on one of the better kicked puppy looks he'd seen from anyone other than Peter, telegraphing to Nathan just what her next move was. Her earlier words became clear to Nathan – she thought she was going to get him into trouble for his deal with _Bennet_ , the deal he'd broken by promising Peter to her.

It was almost amusing, just how deeply she had miscalculated the effect of that deal.

"Claire-bear," Bennet warned. "This has nothing to do with you."

"I know, Dad. I just thought... well, Nathan and I made a deal."

"Did you?" Bennet said, tone chilly. Light glinted off his glasses as he turned again to look at Nathan, who shrugged lightly back at him. He was perfectly willing to let this play out to the end.

"He said he'd get Peter to take me to the prom."

Even at the sound of his own name, Peter failed to react. Nathan felt a flicker of worry.

"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea, dear," Ma said, fingers tracing the stem of his wineglass, even as her calculating gaze looked for any signs of Nathan's motives. She looked hopeful. She sounded _genuine_.

"It does to me," Bennet returned.

"Why?" Nathan asked blandly. "Is it because of _our_ deal? You let me stay close to Peter to keep them apart?"

There was a clatter as Ma knocked over her wineglass. Nathan suppressed a vicious smile.

" _Noah_. We need to talk. _Now_ ," Ma snapped, standing.

Bennet looked unsettled at her reaction, but nonetheless folded his napkin next to his plate. Ma stood by the door, agitation, anger and, yes, shame visible on her face as she beckoned Bennet to follow her out. _So much for the family secret_ , Nathan thought, surprised at the satisfaction he felt.

"Claire, keep an eye on them," Ma tossed over her shoulder before seizing Bennet's arm in a claw like grip, pulling him along, out of earshot.

Claire blinked at the now hushed room.

"Does anyone know what just happened?"

"Your father," Nathan pronounced, standing to serve the main course to her and Peter in turn, "is in a lot of trouble."

Frowning at him, Claire picked at her food, but didn't try to follow up on that question. Her instincts were improving. She could definitely taste the danger in the air, the price of the answer that Bennet was now getting. Nathan wondered idly just how interested Bennet would be in playing father to him now.

The three of them – well, two – ate in silence for a long period, Nathan with no small amount of dark relish. Eventually, the ungainly wood on wood squeak of a chair being pushed back cut through the heavy quiet. Both Claire and Nathan looked up at Peter in concern. He looked more coherent, more together than he had before, but still exhausted and hurt.

"I think I'm going to go back to bed," Peter said. "Try not to sell me while I'm gone."

Claire winced at the words, hollow and toothless as Peter's tone was. Despite himself, Nathan felt a pang of guilt.

He stood to go after Peter, catching him at the threshold. Hand light on Peter's bruised face, he spoke urgently, "I shouldn't have done that to you, Pete."

"Done what, Nathan? You shouldn't have traded me like I was your dog? You shouldn't have outed us?" Peter replied, eyes flashing as his voice dropped to a whisper, "Or you shouldn't have fucked me?"

"Pete..."

Peter laughed sharply, running a hand over his face, voice still pitched too low for Claire to hear, "Nah, never mind the last. I can't blame you. Everyone screws me eventually."

***

His mother was waiting for him in the kitchen the next morning. Stumbling, half way through a yawn, Nathan was tugging his tie into place when he saw her, prim and austere in a dark suit, red nails tapping against the white tile of the kitchen island. There was no food on the counter – a steaming cup of coffee, flowers, and three familiar, pastel brochures.

"You're staying home today, Nathan. We need to have a discussion. Noah will be taking Claire to school."

"You couldn't have told me before I set my alarm?" Nathan groused, eyes on the brochures.

"I could have," his mother acknowledged. "But then you would have been comfortable."

Nathan crossed his arms, ironic look on his face as he thought back to the first time around. It had not been so chill, so calm. He remembered the dim light of the Tiffany lamp on Dad's desk, wondering if Ma was going to knock it over in her hysterics, wondering if she was going to hit him.

This time that morbid, shattering intensity was replaced by thin morning light and the irritating tap of her fingers.

"So it is a punishment," he said. Last time she said it was treatment. _I still love you. I just want you to be well again._

His mother raised an eyebrow.

"That should hardly be a surprise."

"Have you ever considered," Nathan said, emotion welling in his voice, "that I might be the victim? That maybe Peter approached _me_?"

"No, I haven't."

Of course not. Why consider the truth?

Ma stood, smoothing her skirt as she walked toward him. She dusted lint from his jacket – not that it mattered, not that he was going out anywhere today – and lifted her chin as she looked into his eyes, hands firm on his shoulders.

"You're not the victim type, Nathan. Oh, I know Peter isn't innocent in this, but he's not the one who hurt you. You did it entirely to yourself."

Something inside Nathan trembled. She'd never admitted that before, that he'd been hurt. He cast his mind back, thinking of scraped knees and belt marks, trying to remember any kind, healing touches from her.

"You wanted to justify it."

"Justify what?" he whispered, staring over her head, not sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

Ma reached up, fingers delicate as they moved his gel stiffened hair back from his forehead, breaking the product's hold with a _crack_.

"Your father, dear. You still love him. You still want to believe that he loved you."

Nathan flinched, stumbling back from her. His jawed worked, but he couldn't prevent the tears that were coming to his eyes.

"He's our father, _of course he did_."

"Nathan," his mother chided. "Things are never that simple. If Peter loves _you_ , then maybe he loved Arthur, and maybe Arthur loved him back, is that it? I don't know why you've never learned the lesson I've tried to teach you about love. It is a terrible thing, and it justifies _nothing_."

"He came to me first," Nathan said, grasping for straws, not even sure what in her statements he was fighting anymore.

"I know, dear," Ma said. When she came close again, he didn't fight her embrace.

"You're not going to–" Nathan cut himself off, burying his face into her hair, too afraid to say it. It was bad enough being betrayed by one parent. He still couldn't admit the possibility of being betrayed by both out loud.

"Kill you?" his mother asked gently. "Nathan, dear, I never would."

She pulled back to place a kiss on his cheek.

"I killed Arthur to protect both of you."

Nathan nodded blindly, numb to the comfort she thought she was providing.

"Now," she said, leading him by the hand to sit. "We're going to talk about how to fix this."

Talking over hospitals, doctors, and possibly covers stories was strangely calming for Nathan. It let him breathe back in cynical breaths, orient himself and rebuild his defenses. By the end of Ma's explanation for the first clinic – where he'd be again subjected to snide, bored comments about depressed rich boys – he almost felt secure again.

Some time later, he heard a creak on the stairs and an audibly jaw-cracking yawn. Peter. His bid to become nocturnal had apparently backfired.

Nathan tensed and stood, ready to retreat back to his room rather than face a repeat of _the talk_ in his brother's presence. Wordlessly, his mother caught him by the arm – not to keep him there, just to give a firm squeeze, gaze almost apologetic before she nodded and allowed him to flee. She gave him a brief, wavering smile that raised a lump in his throat.

She almost looked like she loved him.

Slipping out the back, he took the stairs two at a time. Nathan could hear the soft murmurs of his mother greeting his brother. For once he didn't feel any jealousy stir at their imagined interaction. There was a tight, wistful sadness that gripped his heart, its hold slipping as he measured his distance and approached his door.

Ma was right. They needed to fix things.

His eyes fell on his desk and the wrinkled conferment of executive power from Tracy and the Senate earlier in the week. More worthless than Nathan's machinations, their "viral" videos, or the weeks wasted planning the prom.

_Or not..._ Nathan thought, frowning. He drew his cell phone from his pocket, a new plan percolating in his mind – a clean plan, a swift sword to cut through all the webs he had created in the past weeks.

***

Nathan rolled the pen between his fingers. It was finely made, expensive, gilded highlights bright under the lights of the office. Nathan was all too aware of its weight as he twirled it around, pressing the nib to the forms on the desk to sign.

He tried to ignore Linderman's kind, confused eyes studying him as he looped flourishing 'L's into his name.

Pushing the paper across the desk, he cocked an eyebrow at his father's closest friend.

"Yes?"

"Nothing, my boy."

"You want to know why I'm here," Nathan asserted. "I'm fulfilling my campaign promise."

Linderman picked up the cashier's check, waving it to dry to ink. Ten grand for one night, all the money Deveaux had refunded.

"A very noble ambition, and a quality I have always admired in your family, Nathan. You always keep your promises. But that is not what I am surprised about."

Nathan shifted in his seat. He was committed to this, convinced it was the right course to follow. He finally felt that he'd achieved clarity in his goals – to be the President he was elected to be, to be the brother he always wanted to be. But that _still_ didn't mean he wanted to spend more time around Linderman than he needed to.

"I'm surprised Angela didn't tell me you were coming," Linderman stated cagily, leaning back in his leather chair to watch Nathan piece together the implicit question. _Why are you acting without her knowledge? Are you plotting against us? Are you trying to topple her from power?_

Nathan shrugged.

"It's just high school. Ma has more important things to deal with."

"Certainly she does. But you have never been, shall we say, _enamored_ with the nature of my business or hers. I recall you saying something about me 'destroying' your family," Linderman said, smiling. "So you can see how I might be surprised to see you taking the initiative and taking over your father's relationship with my business."

"I can."

"And?"

Nathan chuckled and offered a shark's smile.

"And now you expect me to say that I'm _not_ my father and that this is a one time deal. It probably isn't. I know better than that."

"But you want to fulfill your obligations?"

"Yes," Nathan said, squaring his shoulders. It felt like a stupid, petty reason in the face of Linderman's condescension. Linderman clearly thought he was getting in over his head.

"Look, I know what you are. I _know_ , and you're no worse than the rest of my family."

"How kind of you to say that. What is the phrase? Ah, _damning with faint praise_."

Nathan glared at him.

"You don't know a damned thing about us."

"So I am learning," Linderman said, smile touching his lips.

"You're no worse than Dad," Nathan repeated as he stood to leave, "and you're no worse than me."


	5. Prom, And Other Disasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Peter publishes a near disastrous article in the school newspaper about Nathan's illicit affairs on campus, Nathan plots revenge. But with both prom and the anniversary of their father's death coming up, the plot quickly becomes twisted for both of them, emotionally and psychologically. HIGH SCHOOL AU

Part 5 – The Prom

The Corinthian Hotel on Long Island was the lesser of the twin hotels. It lacked the decadent, tasteless opulence of its casino sister in Vegas – much to Nathan's relief and the Student Senate's chagrin. With less than a week to plan and seriously depleted funds, there was no way to fly the senior class out to Vegas for prom. No matter how many times Ando suggested it.

Tracy took Nathan's comeback with remarkably good grace, merely shrugging and confirming the color of her corsage. That she was immediately bombarded with calls from Linderman's social event planner after the Senate meeting and kept being referred to as Nathan's assistant, on the other hand, she took with less grace. On Friday, she was still leveling steely glares at Nathan every time they brushed past each other in the hall.

She looked coldly beautiful on the hastily erected stage in the Corinthian's main ballroom, doing one last sound check before the other students started arriving. Her pale blue dress shimmered over her skin, each tiny movement provoking an iridescent fall of light that made her look as illusory as an ice carving.

There were few other students in the hall yet – only Mohinder and Eden, since the other Student Senate officers wanted to arrive in style with their dates. The chaperoning parents and teachers patrolled the edges, chatting with the Corinthian staff. Nathan could hear murmured statements now and again of admiration, that these kids had managed to pull their dance back from the maw of near-disaster.

Bennet stood next to where Mr. Thompson and Dr. Suresh sat by the door, ready to tear tickets. His gaze never wavered from Nathan, hidden as it was beneath the brilliant sheen of reflected dance lights.

Nathan returned his attention uneasily. Bennet _knew_. Ma had taken him aside and explained everything. Probably excluding the fact that she had murdered her previous husband, but Nathan honestly wouldn't put it past her.

It had been easy this week to drown himself in the details of retrofitting the prom plans into the new setting. It was a good distraction from the unsettled feeling he had every time he glanced at Bennet or Claire. He didn't know what to expect from them – Peter and Ma, even with the recriminations and guilt and _pain_ , he knew what he was getting. But the Bennets... Nathan didn't even know why they were still around. He kept expecting to wake up and find a note taped to the coffee machine, the house cleared entirely of their belongings, Claire vanished from the school register like she'd never been enrolled and their families had never joined.

_Why_ would Bennet stay, knowing what the Petrellis really were?

Nathan forced himself to look away, marching over to the catering table with the intention of yelling at someone for a faux pas he would invent on the spot. He stopped short, however, taking in Mohinder and the fruit he was adding to the punch bowl. It looked suspiciously like he was performing _science_ again, Nathan noted with an almost audible growl of annoyance.

"I thought you said experimenting on people was wrong, Suresh?"

Mohinder jumped slightly, and then offered Nathan a placating smile.

"I did and it is. This is not part of an experiment."

Eden, Mohinder's date and co-conspirator in a short purple dress that people not Nathan might call "kicky" leaned across the fondue pot to offer Nathan a vodka soaked cherry.

"Just regular spiking," she said. "We swear."

"You couldn't wait? Your father is looking right at us now!" Nathan seethed.

A slow, obnoxious and very teenage smile spread across Mohinder's face. He waved to his father who returned the gesture with a bemused, preoccupied air.

"I know."

Fathers and sons.

Aggravated, but well aware that the damage was done, Nathan left with a glare and a warning, "Just don't let Hiro drink any of that, okay?"

The last thing the prom needed was a drunk hyperactive exchange student who insisted on calling Nathan "older sister" in Japanese even when he was perfectly sober.

A few more last minutes checks: ducking backstage to make sure Tracy was counting the prom king and queen ballots correctly, cajoling Mr. Thompson into calling the front desk and ensuring the post-prom activity rooms were set up, giving Mohinder and Eden the hairy eyeball just one last time to make sure they didn't get any more creative with the catering table.

And then, the first arrivals. The lights dimmed, the DJ spun up the first disc, and Bennet tore the first ticket.

Fighting the itch that made Nathan want to greet each student personally, make it known that _he_ salvaged their prom from the brink of disaster, he instead grabbed a glass of the suspect punch and retreated to the balcony to watch each new arrival.

Cheerleaders Monica and Elle, arms slung around each other's waists, Elle's gold foil crinkling with each step and Monica's short red cocktail dress hugging her figure almost as closely as her girlfriend was; Matt and Audrey, his broad smile almost covering for the uncomfortable glower she shot the room as she adjusted her pink taffeta; Heidi, on her own but beautiful in a soft gray dress, artfully crumpled; Maya in a gorgeous deep teal bandage dress, on the arm of her twin brother, raising Nathan's eyebrow but probably no one else's.

A sprinkling of others came, unfamiliar faces since they had never shared Dr. Suresh's Special Ed class with Nathan, nor had he made it a point to get to know them beyond what it took to win their votes.

The dance was warming up when Hiro, Ando, and Daphne entered – late and looking a little flushed, like always. Daphne had a hand from each of her boys gripped in hers and she eagerly dragged them forward, nearly by-passing the ticket takers entirely. Nathan gave them only the most cursory of glances, almost let himself be amused by the combination of her silk, humming bird embroidered dress and her thick heeled Chucks peeking out from underneath, before his attention snapped back to the door.

Waiting.

He leaned his elbows against the bannister, bringing his steepled hands to his face to scowl over as he watched the door.

"You bitch!"

Nathan's eyes darted to the side, finding the small clearing in the dance floor where two figures circled each other. He squinted, trying to make out who they were amidst the smoke and pulsating lights. He saw dark hair and blond, heart beginning to race as the possible meanings registered.

"Candice! Meredith!" Bennet barked, charging onto the dance floor before it could get interesting. Unconsciously, Nathan deflated at the names. "Break it up."

The girls turned, making Nathan's assumptions – his irrational hope – even more foolish. Despite some resemblance, Meredith could never be mistaken for Claire and Candice most _definitely_ couldn't pass for Peter.

_And he wouldn't ever call her a bitch_ , Nathan reminded himself bitterly.

Attention wandering, Nathan didn't note much more about the conflict between Candice and Meredith. Same dress, he guessed, although it was hard to tell from his vantage spot. Not precisely a surprise. Candice never had been good at anything but imitation.

The next entrance received much fanfare: Niki and DL. A ripple of murmurs and smiles coursed through the room, flash of the lights almost overwhelmed momentarily by the flashes of cameras. Tracy sauntered lightly from the stage, dress shimmering hauntingly with her every moment as she approached. Despite the glitz and good cheer of his fellow students, Nathan's breath caught in his throat as he watched her stalk forward. He could see the tension in her gait.

She'd won, after a fashion, but could she stand to see her sister crowned queen?

"Oh, my God, Niki! You look gorgeous!" Tracy squealed, hugging her twin tight.

Apparently so. Nathan's lips twisted into a disappointed moue as he watched the girls twirl, the train of Niki's red dress flaring out widely.

"Is _anything_ interesting going to happen?" Nathan asked aloud in frustration.

"You could make it happen."

Nathan jumped and then tensed, glaring over at Peter and daring him to laugh. Instead, he offered a wan smile, face still pale and strained. The bruise had faded to a sickly yellow, covered up by Claire's diligent make up. He looked borderline presentable in his tuxedo.

"When did you get here?"

"Just now. I sneaked in the back. Well, front. You get what I mean," Peter said with a jerk of his head to the side, indicating the elevator that connected to the rest of the hotel. He must have taken one up near the front desk, crossed a floor above them, and entered behind Nathan.

One of many tricks made possible by the Petrelli-Linderman partnership.

"Remember when we used to play hide and seek here?" Peter continued, following the same line of thought Nathan had.

"Yeah."

"Dad always got _so mad_."

"Peter, could we _not_?" Nathan said through gritted teeth, not entirely sure why he was rebelling at Peter's reminiscence. This was what he'd waited for, putting up with weeks of Peter's messed up behavior. It was why he'd wanted to fix the prom so badly.

He knew they needed to talk it out.

Peter shrugged easily, mimicking Nathan's position to lean on the bannister. They watched the students below them sway to Imogen Heap. Niki and DL were at the center of the dance floor, moving with the grace of a king and queen without ever being crowned. Eden had moved in on the tall, handsome exchange student from Haiti whose name Nathan had never gotten. And there, on the edge, Claire stood next to Matt, watching Mohinder gamely try to keep up with Audrey's box step.

Covering the tense feeling in his stomach at the sight of his step-sister, Nathan nudged Peter.

"Scoop for you," he said, indicating the Mohinder-Audrey-Matt triangle. Peter snorted.

"You seriously don't even read my paper, do you?" Nathan turned his head to meet Peter's eyes, not quite willing to admit how far behind he was on gossip. "Weeks ago, Nathan. _Weeks_."

"So," Peter started, fingers lifting from the bannister to point down to a certain blond prowling toward the stage once more, "how did you get Tracy to work so hard on your plan?"

"I told her she could take credit for saving prom."

"Crafty."

"I thought so."

"You know the student body already knows that you were the only one with the power to pay Linderman for the rental, right?"

"Funny how that works," Nathan said with satisfaction.

Peter turned, leaning back against the railing, hands braced at his sides as he said quietly, "You always were excellent at revenge schemes."

"Cut to the chase, Pete."

"You leaked the photos, didn't you?"

Nathan rolled his eyes, fighting the impulse to implicate Claire. It wouldn't do any good now. "We've been over this. You believed me before."

"I did, but it still didn't quite add up. You still owed me one for the Meredith article, and there's no way I'm going to believe your Senate minutes stunt was your revenge. You aren't that lame, Nathan."

Actually, he totally was. The minutes had been his revenge, the plan that developed afterward had been something else altogether. As much as breaking up Peter, Simone, and Isaac had, in the back of his mind, seemed like just dessert for Peter airing Nathan's own sex scandals, that wasn't really how he'd originally conceived of it.

"To what end, Pete? That whole fiasco nearly cost us prom," Nathan reminded him calmly.

"You _know_ to what end," Peter said, eyes accusing. He looked furtively to the side, and despite himself, Nathan felt the tight coil compressing his heart release a little. Peter looked more together, more aware than he had in weeks. "There's no way we would have fucked if you hadn't broken me and Simone and Isaac up."

"We would have eventually."

"No. We wouldn't. I was being stupid and fucked up..."

"Exactly my point. You're always stupid and fucked up," Nathan said, trying to play it off like a joke. Peter merely glared in response.

They settled back into silence, Nathan eying his brother critically.

"It's good to see you..."

"Functional?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Nathan said. Peter was still too pale, still too tired.

"Getting out of the house helped," Peter said, edge of resentment in his voice, not _quite_ blaming Nathan for getting him stuck there. "I'm glad I got to come, to be with you before we..."

Nathan let him trail off, happy not to hear a euphemism. The memory of therapy the first time, the loneliness of it, beyond even being separated from Peter was bad enough that he appreciated the comfortable cowardice eliding the words themselves.

"You know, I just realized we don't have a lot more time," Peter continued, his tone almost sounding wistful, if Nathan didn't know better. "After we go... after this summer, we're going to different colleges."

He could almost admire the backhanded cruelty of Peter's statement – sweetly reminding him of how much _he_ loved Nathan, reminding Nathan how little time they had, reminding Nathan it was all his fault for outing them to Bennet and Ma.

Jaw clenched, he forced his gaze back to the dance floor where Maya was picking her way over to the catering table. She poured herself a large glass of punch before diligently scooping out the fruit and putting it in a separate cup to eat from.

"That's why you did it, isn't it?" Peter asked.

"Did what, Pete?"

"It's why prom was important," Peter insisted. "Why you changed the date."

Nathan froze.

"You noticed that?"

Peter's hand inched slowly across the bannister, his fingers lightly touching the back of Nathan's hand. Nathan stared straight ahead, forcing himself to wonder if anyone was going to warn Maya about the fruit.

"You need to read my paper," Peter said, some of the anger disappearing from his voice, replaced by ironic amusement. "I've covered the prom for three years. I know the day it's supposed to be on. You moved it to be on the anniversary."

Narrowing his eyes, Nathan glared down at Mohinder who had rejoined Eden at a small table. He could swear he saw a notepad in Mohinder's hand, recording what Eden said as she watched Maya sway and giggle.

" _Nathan_."

He jerked his hand away from Pete's light, scalding touch, turning to put his back to the dance floor. Nathan glowered at Peter.

"I wasn't thinking, Pete. I didn't even realize you were going to be gone in fall. You think I _planned_ on getting caught?" he said, noticing the strange, betraying nod Peter gave at the words. Great, he really had thought it had been all part of Nathan's grand plan. He'd probably even thought that Nathan was dumb enough to sacrifice himself as part of a revenge plot of Peter.

Tone softening, Nathan added, "I thought we'd have all summer together."

"But you did move prom, didn't you?"

"Shouldn't you go dance with your date?"

Peter shrugged lightly. "Mom said she only made me bring her to punish you."

"I knew it," Nathan grumbled.

"She also told me I should appreciate what you did here. That's why she convinced Noah to revoke my suspension. She wanted us to be together tonight."

"To what, celebrate?"

"This was your idea," Peter said. He placed a hand on Nathan's shoulder, feeling the tension. "Why are you fighting it?"

"Ma told me she killed him, you know. Because of what he did to us. To you."

Peter's brow furrowed, denial momentarily on his lips.

"She wouldn't..."

Nathan cocked an eyebrow at him and Peter sighed.

"Okay, but why tell you?"

"To tell me I'm next," Nathan lied. It would be easier, he decided suddenly. Peter could hate Ma and take his side. Maybe Nathan would transfer to Columbia, instead of going to the Academy in Annapolis...

Peter's lips compressed into a fine line, his ridiculous bangs falling into his eyes as he glared at Nathan.

"You're not next."

"Why not?" Nathan immediately hated the vulnerable note in his voice. He straightened his shoulders, looking over Peter's shoulder to make his gaze cool, his voice steady and casual when he continued, "I did the same thing."

_You didn't!_ declared the Peter in Nathan's head, the one whose voice he desperately wanted to hear. Grinding his teeth, Nathan waited. And waited.

And looked back to Peter, finding his face ashen while he studied his shoes. Nathan's heart lurched.

"Pete..."

"You did," Peter said without looking up. Nathan wanted to shake him.

"You came to _me_."

"I did, I know. I always do. But I don't always," Peter licked his lips, looking up at Nathan pleadingly, "I don't always know what's good for me. That's what you always say."

"It's why I'm here," Nathan replied automatically, stepping forward to wrap his arms around his brother. Peter needed to be controlled, he needed to be protected, and Nathan was the one to do it.

Pressing his face to Nathan's neck, Peter murmured, "I don't regret it."

He didn't regret the sex. He didn't regret their entire relationship or the manipulations to get there – manipulations from each of them that Nathan finally saw. And _God_ , Pete, how fucked up was it that he would turn on a dime from saying Nathan hurt him as badly as their father did to _comforting_ Nathan, seducing him all over again?

Muscles quivering with a weak, sick feeling, Nathan disentangled himself from Peter, offering an awkward pat to Peter's shoulder. He needed to regroup if he was going to do this right.

"How about we find our dates?" Nathan asked, forcing a smile as he guided Peter down the stairs, hand light on the small of his back.

He could only breath easy again once he handed Peter off to Claire, noticing for the first time how the red of his boutonniere matched her dress. How it matched his lips.

Claire frowned at him when he pushed Peter to her side, muttering, "Thanks."

And really, he wasn't in it to see their dating behavior, so he retreated as quickly as he could to find Tracy. Maybe to drag her upstairs, find an efficient way to simultaneously scrub away visions of Peter and Claire _and_ the images of himself and Peter that he suddenly, frighteningly, didn't want to think about. He found her by the punch, scrutinizing her newly poured glass.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, indicating the punch she now held under her nose to sniff.

"Rohypnol is odorless anyway," she said, lowering the glass with a shrug.

"I don't think that's what they did to it."

"Whatever it is, I saw Maya head off into the bathroom looking green not too long ago, her brother trailing after."

"To hold her hair back?"

Tracy took a tentative sip and, upon contemplating the taste, took a second, deeper swig.

"Let's hope," she replied, eyebrow arched. "Those two have always pinged my radar."

"Really?" Nathan said, turning to crane his head toward the closed doors of the restroom. They hadn't pinged anything for him in all the time he and Peter had shared Seminary classes with them before school, but if they were...

_If they are, then_ what? he asked himself snidely. _We'll form a club? I'll be able to hit them up for advice?_

Tracy set her punch back down on the table, taking Nathan by the hand.

"You owe me a dance," she said, leading him to the dance floor. It was a relatively slow Muse song, to Nathan's relief. Nothing looked more ridiculous than prep school students in formal wear _moshing_.

They swayed together in silence a few moments, Nathan keeping his hands in more gentlemanly areas than he was accustomed to, before it occurred to him both that he _did_ need advice and that he had someone who might actually be able to offer it right before him. As long as he, you know, didn't actually get specific enough to get arrested or allow her to completely destroy him politically.

"How do you break up with someone you love?" he asked, caution in his wording doing little to prevent the shocked look on her face.

"If this is your way of telling me you love me... it sucks."

"Why would I love _you_? You humiliated me!"

Tracy's smile turned coy as her hand slid down his back.

"Some guys like that kind of thing."

"Not me," Nathan said quickly. "And you're not the one I'm breaking up with, even if that suddenly sounds like a very good idea."

She cocked her head. "Why would you break up with someone you love?"

Whatever answer he could have formulated was cut off by a commotion by the door. Nathan spun Tracy around for a better look, getting the sharp toe of her high Bottega Veneta pump in his shin for his trouble. Even the DJ lowered the volume of the music as he stood to crane his neck, peering over the manufactured-fog filled hall to the door.

The murmuring did not clear, but only intensified as a tall female figure broke away from the door, stepping into the strange light of the dance floor.

Simone.

"What the hell is she doing here?"

"No idea," he replied flatly.

Simone's make up job was even more masterful than Peter's. Even knowing what to look for, Nathan saw no trace of bruising along her jaw or eye, and she had either somehow healed her broken nose completely in the past week, or found a concealer that perfectly blended with the tape over it. Her hair was done up stylishly in a French twist, tendrils hanging down to her bare shoulders above the glittering violet bodice of her silk dress. The floor length gown swayed as she stepped forward uncertainly.

Uncertainly, at least, until the applause began.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Tracy groaned, dropping her forehead onto Nathan's shoulder.

"Have they forgotten that _she_ was the one who got the prom canceled to begin with?"

"Actually, Nathan, that was you."

"And you," he snapped back.

She chuckled into the material of his tux.

"Then I guess we all got what was coming to us."

The clapping crescendo-ed around them as Simone stepped into Mohinder's arms, laughing as he twirled and then dipped her. He released her just as the other students crowded in. Nathan caught a flash of Eden's hand bag as she offered Simone tissues to dab at her eyes with, saving her carefully applied make up.

Peter and Claire stood on the periphery of the crush, Claire reaching out tentatively to take Peter's hand. Nathan met Peter's eyes, and then looked away.

"I'm going to get some punch," Nathan said gruffly, pushing away from Tracy.

"If you get drunk, don't even bother coming on stage with me!"

***

Claire found him later in the emergency stairwell, foot tapping unwillingly to Outkast. He was three deep into Mohinder and Eden's mystery concoction, and feeling no better for it.

"Hey," she said softly. "They're doing the prom king and queen announcements soon. Shouldn't you be out there?"

"Tracy's got it covered."

"Right." She shifted on her heels awkwardly, before huffing out a sigh and sitting next to him on the steps. "I wanted to apologize. I was a real bitch to you, and I know I got you and Peter... and Dad in trouble somehow. I shouldn't have been so selfish."

"It's okay, Claire."

"No, it's not! I did everything I accused you of doing, and I wouldn't even be here at the prom if not for you. I should be thanking you."

Nathan chuckled lowly.

"Really, Claire. Don't. I was using you. And the reason you are here is that Ma decided to teach me a lesson. I didn't do anything for your sake."

"What lesson could that teach?"

Nathan wracked his brain, not entirely sure himself. He had the feeling it was something along the lines of _A good boy can look but not touch_ , but he couldn't say that.

"That I'm not as smart as I think I am."

"Still," Claire said, looking down. "I owe you."

She fidgeted with her hands, trying to brush off the step next to her. A line of disgust formed between her eyebrows as she brought back a dust covered hand.

"Are you," she started, eyes still downcast, "Are you ever going to tell me what you and Peter are in trouble for? I could help you. I'm your sister now, you know."

"If you're our sister, why do you keep trying to date Peter?" he asked with a snort.

Claire stiffened, hackles up.

"If you treated me like a sister, maybe I wouldn't."

_Not likely, with our family._

"It doesn't matter, though. That's all I am to him," she admitted, eventually. She leaned back, elbows resting three steps up as she gazed toward the hypnotically spiraling staircase above them.

"You're lucky. That's a good thing to be."

"If you say so. Sometimes I think I've got more than enough family already."

Nathan leaned back with her, looking down to the top of her head, feeling a surge of feelings he'd almost call fraternal.

"I will tell you, Claire."

"Hmm?" she asked, tilting her head so her green eyes met his.

"What we got in trouble for. I'll tell you, someday."

She smiled.

"Good enough. Now," she said, springing back up and offering him her hand, "I didn't come in here for the atmosphere. Dad says Angela will kill us all if we don't get a group photo. She wants to see her boys all dressed up."

They exited back into the light of the dance, now focused on the stage as Tracy joined Dr. Suresh on stage to crown the prom court. Heidi and Monica stood next to Niki, crowned with tiaras already, holding their ridiculous scepters as they grinned like fools. On the other side, DL stood with Hiro and that Haitian exchange student attending him.

As they wove through the crowd, Nathan could swear he heard Simone whisper something about getting the exchange student's phone number. He wondered if he should tell Peter, but decided against it. He'd done enough to meddle there.

The group gathered together down the hall with the photographer, waiting as he sorted out his memory cards and tested the lens flare of Bennet's glasses. Impulsively, Nathan tugged on Peter's arm, drawing him away to talk.

"Ow, Nathan, _what_?" Peter groused, rubbing at his arm. Yeah, whatever, like he was that frail. Nathan hadn't even been pulling that hard, although with three very stiff drinks in him it was getting more difficult to tell.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah, and you need to get your head examined. We've been through this."

Peter made to walk back to the photography room, and Nathan grabbed him again, swinging him back around.

"Nathan, just stop it," Peter said. "You don't want to talk about what's important. I get it."

"Well, I do now."

Fixing him with a skeptical look, Peter crossed his arms and waited.

"You were right," Nathan said in a rush, before correcting himself. "And wrong. I moved the prom date. Not to celebrate, though. Just to talk. We needed to talk about Dad."

"So talk."

_Oh thanks, Pete. You choose now to clam up about your feelings?_ That wasn't fair, though. Peter always talked about his feelings. He always talked about Dad, and Nathan knew better than anyone how Peter felt about him. As much of a trainwreck as Peter was otherwise, his feelings on that topic were at least consistent.

"I don't hate him. I tried, for you. And for myself, because I know you're never supposed to hit a kid and that kid is damned well not supposed to keep loving you after you do it."

"It's okay if you do," Peter said, expression softening. "These things are complicated."

Nathan shook his head.

"Pete, I know what he did to you. I should have stopped it."

"I knew what he was doing to you. I should have stopped that," Peter replied, making Nathan's head snap up.

"No, don't you ever blame yourself."

Peter offered a small, pained smile.

"Why not? It's fun for the whole family."

Nathan blew out a long breath off air, pacing away from Peter, feeling his eyes itch with unshed tears and his palms sweat. He needed to stop stalling and _say_ it. They'd been over all of this – in bed, in therapy, in car rides home after bad days at school. The pity party was getting old.

Staring at the closed door that Bennet and Claire waited behind, Nathan started over, asking, "You never said anything about Linderman."

"You did what you had to do," Peter said with a confused shrug. "I understand."

"I don't _want_ you to understand. I hate Linderman. I hate everything he has done to our family and I hate that I'm expected to just step into Dad's shoes and take up business with him," Nathan paused, centering himself after the admission before plunging on, "I moved the prom so we could talk about Dad, but that was before I realized what I had to do. It's why I didn't mind going to Linderman.

"He's not the one killing this family, Pete. It's us."

"No. No, it's _not_ ," Peter said, tone suddenly fierce.

"Pete, you know it is. This is tearing you apart. _I'm_ tearing you apart."

"You're not the bad guy here, Nathan. I love you. I came to you. If anything, this is more my fault..."

Nathan put a hand on Peter's shoulder, wary and prepared to become restraining if need be. Instead he felt the tension drain as Peter trailed off, his eyes filled with fear.

"I don't want to be like Dad, Pete," Nathan whispered.

"You're _not_. You love me." _And he never did._

Unable to help himself anymore, Nathan wrapped his arms around Peter, feeling his brother immediately curl into the embrace, resting wet eyes on his shoulder.

"I do love you," Nathan said into his hair. "And that's why I want to do this. I just want to be your brother again."

"You're always my brother," Peter mumbled.

"Well, now I'll be more your brother. Nothing else."

Peter sniffled, and Nathan stroked his hair, reminding himself that this was still allowed. This was brotherly.

Despite his tears, Peter was relaxed in Nathan's arms. Not clinging, not desperate, not yearning for the things he shouldn't have. Because he had it, and maybe it was enough for once. They stood together two songs – Nathan didn't have any other measure of time – and for the first time in a very long time, Nathan felt at ease when they began to break apart.

"Are you still going to date?" Peter asked, lifting his head to look at Nathan.

His laugh was suspiciously wet, but real when he replied, "All the time, Pete."

"Should I?"

"No. You're going to become a priest."

"You have a filthy imagination, Nathan."

The door to the photographer rattled, and Claire poked her head out. She glared at them and waved her hand imperiously to beckon them in, a gesture that was pure Angela. Maybe she'd make it in the family, yet.

Sharing a quick, hesitant smile, Nathan looped his arm around Peter's waist to lead him into the room. They may have been brothers, but they _were_ still Petrellis.


End file.
